People with money but no fortune or stomach for the life of an albatross, watch him soar on self-made wings, fetch the dingy redness of morning's first catch with a long necked bottle he calls the captain As they are crawling up to you think of Angor Wat the sweating walls cold in stone steam broiling in the jungle; or, that most ancient of men, the Chinese beggar the thin rinds of his skin like scented apples or kimonos slipped off to dry…
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