Remember when I was bumming around Chelsea on the purple hearts! The chicks there thought I was God's gift to their little bohemia. A real devil. ‘I'm pilled to the gills,’ I'd tell them and their little eyes would grow as big as plates.
He seemed to have that kind of self-possession and ease about him, together with a certain bantering jollity, which are so natural to fast-handed and well-housed lords of the soil.
Intermarriage, he apparently thought, would produce racial upliftment, biologically as much as spiritually and culturally, through generational enhancement.
Then I threw a craisin (sweetened dried cranberry) in my mouth and it flew to the back of my throat and stuck there, choking me....
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