The mud was disgusting. It didn’t matter how careful one was, there was no way to keep it from sticking. And where are the fruits? A banana? Haven�...t these people heard of a tomato? Or a mango? Meat. Bread. Onions. A carrot. A potato. That’s it. No wonder they look like ghosts. Unhappy ones. Of course they’re pale. Where’s the sun, anyway? And it’s not even winter yet.She had hated London. Too many people. Too many horses and carriages. Smelly. Dirty. Noisy. Oxford, on the other hand, seemed to. ’ As I was neared the subway door Juliette said in a loud voice, ‘Don’t let them get you down, Peter, lots of guys with a tiny penis have the operation.’ I figure at least 50 people kept looked at me from the inside of the car as the train slowly…really, really slowly…moved north under Cleveland Avenue. —Juliette— I had another day and a half left at the conference. I checked for cell messages constantly that day and a little less the next. No call from Juliette. I had no right to be. More

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