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Chapter 31: The Lecture on Fate, II
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... ut because routine has gravity. When the world becomes uncertain, even the smallest rituals feel like anchors. A sharpened pencil. The smell of Ink. The creak of a library chair worn smooth by a hundred other restless minds.
The university library had become my second apartment. I spent hours drifting through narrow aisles between shelves that had outlived their authors. Their spines were faded, some missing entirely, like ghosts of titles long forgotten. The smell of leather and dust ke ...
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