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As if that blind rage had washed me clean,rid me of all hope,
for the first time I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.
Finding it so much like myself I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again.
For everything to be consumated, for me to feel less alone,
I had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators the day of my execution
and that they greet me with cries of hate.
The Stranger, A. Camus, 1942
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CD: down 9
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