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Your old life is gone. You know you could no more return to being an innocent storyteller than I could go back to being a slave. Life moves forward, not backward.
Revel in it, he thought, why not? A worn and grubby old man stood with his back against the wall of another tall grey-and-brickred building. He wore a heavy grey-green coat, even in that heat, and one of his shoes was open at the toe, baring skin inside.