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But if you are sick of an uncomfortable, dirty, meager life, of endless winters, of clumsy socks, of eternally malfunctioning elevators, of ice-cold water, rough soap, of a cigarette disintegrating in your fingers, of a strange and vile taste of food, doesn’t this mean, that such a way of life is not normal? If it seems unbearable, is it really the ancestral memory that whispers to you that you once lived differently?
1984
George Orwell
304 syf.
10/10 puan verdi
