He died when I was. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. Groups of boys took to ogling her as she walked frenetically from class to class. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. And she, she in her own person too, was this eternal Bios, beginning again its recurrent journey to selection and multiplication and failure or survival.
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