What I was chasing in circles must have been the tail of the darkness inside me.

there was the old hippie-hating mad dog himself, moonlighting after a busy day of civil-rights violation, as pitchman for Channel View Estates.

Nothing good came free. Even love. You paid for all things. And if you were poor, suffering was your currency.

If those sorts of moments would be the only pleasure life offered me, I'd be better off shutting out that one brilliant source of light to let my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness.

Written By Arthur Golden

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