Dipping an adroit hand ¡into hịís hat, he found excessively a patent razor, gin, a banjo-ukulele
five cigar bands, 3-in-l, a jackknife with broken blades, a portable bathtub and a Sunday Times, as well as freckles, Matisse, red hair, a blue airplane and a white rabbit.
The last he gave to the White Queen, who ran away.
The red-haired man burst into genuine tears, they did not change to pearls. He went to a dance in Harlem. Holding a toy pistol bang to his head, he crumpled boom to the foor, in time with Duke Ellingtons umpah-umpah,
It was what everybody expected. That year everybody was being baroque and outrageous, with a false hint of sadness underneath. The parties were wonderful, and nobody believed in them any more
But the bullets were real and the death was real, I couldn’t get Over it.
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