"Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep...
Some mysterious revenge of nature has seen to it that no poem in praise of drink or tobacco (or snuff, if any) can succeed.
Photo by Ákos Szabó
Photo by Ian Turnell
Some mysterious revenge of nature has seen to it that no poem in praise of drink or tobacco (or snuf...
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