Where can I find out these terrible men?; Are they hiddenin that big box; o no! in those countless boxes;
Oh no, another big mistake!, Were they introducing me in the "Boxing day"?
I'd fought the last month against the best town's boxers, I'd also wooded pretty women because of they were always protected by strong fighters, at least, before; there, in front of the place where I suddenly dreamt of having extreme and violent fights,
there, there were cardboard boxes. Boxes!
Why?, I kicked it one; but, finally, I opened it and......, a book! Ulysses, someone had written that it was an indecipherable book to read; Two years before, I found the same book but in a longer version. Every word, every sentence hit me mercicessly.
These days, though far, I felt vertigo when I begin to sense the incredible worlds visited by Joyce; "if Judas go forth tonight", asked James, more or less, a hundred years ago; a hundred years later, it would be a banker in an attitude at prayer; and if Socrates "leave his house"; Would he occupy a house that won't sent him to the jail in the futur; or he would drink a small cyanide of the reality of power that slowly kill him.
Yesterday I understood the meaning of this day in a closed city; this morning a incredible man explained us that "Boxing day", it was the day when richmen people gave gift boxes to their employees
And, every page, that I'm reading, it is a new step to read it later, another time. Perhaps, a day, I'll speak with Dedalus, but not now
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