My copy of The Alchemist is currently crammed into a cardboard box with Adams and Wodehouse, probably being jostled about in some Midwestern state on its way to California where it will be waiting for me once more. It's sort of strange that I think of it the most when it's not right next to my bed for me to reach over and thumb through. But that's
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WE CAN DO SOUL-SEARCHING TOGETHER. 8)
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