Breakfast brought an oppressive gloom down on my spirits. Soft-boiled eggs oozed a golden ichor of loneliness onto my spoon; the buttered rolls spoke only of the further torment of my being. Failure swirled in the milky depths of my tea and the bacon I devoured was the bacon of grief.
The writing is stunning and I´m really enjoying this book so far, but this has to be one of the weirdest books I have ever read.
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