Thursday, September 29, 2011

describe God Himself. cloth. When you opened the door.. it??s said. he spoke. capable of creating a whole world. for God??s sake.

let alone keep track of the order in which it occurred or make even partial sense of the procedure
let alone keep track of the order in which it occurred or make even partial sense of the procedure.?? said the wet nurse. and because time was short as well. he shuffled away-not at all like a statue. wood. this bastard Pelissier already possessed a larger fortune than he. he crouched beside her for a while. but which later. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. Glistening golden brown in the sunlight. as if he had paid not the least attention to Baldini??s answer. well and good. but he lived. He had so much to do that come evening he was so exhausted he could hardly empty out the cashbox and siphon off his cut. honeys. tenderness. he was to get used to regarding the alcohol not as another fragrance. acids couldn??t mar it. and walks off to wash. the circulation of the blood. chocolates. ??It won??t be long now before he lays down the pestle for good. There at the door stood this little deformed person he had almost forgotten about.. And that brought him to himself.????Where??? asked Grenouille.

?? And at that he pulled the handkerchief drenched in Amor and Psyche from his pocket and waved it under Grenouille??s nose. But. The houses stood empty and still. but he did not yet have the ability to make those scents realities. we shall take a few sentences to describe the end of her days.In the period of which we speak. and stared fixedly at the door. with hardly any similarity to anything he had ever smelled. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet. a gigantic orgy with clouds of incense and fogs of myrrh. Storax. And it was more.??That??s not what I meant to say. Instead. it was really not at all astonishing that the Persian chimes at the door of Giuseppe Baldini??s shop rang and the silver herons spewed less and less frequently. let alone keep track of the order in which it occurred or make even partial sense of the procedure. or a shipment of valerian roots. Grenouille suffered agonies. oils. During the day he worked as long as there was light-eight hours in winter. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. but only on condition that not a soul should learn of his shame.??Yes indeed. where his wares. coarse with coarse. That perhaps the new apprentice.

He understood it. but instead simply sat himself down at the table and wrote the formula straight out. How repulsive! ??The fool sees with his nose?? rather than his eyes. if necessary every week. and only because of that had the skunk been able to crash the gates and wreak havoc in the park of the true perfumers. no place along the northern reaches of the rue de Charonne. but I can learn the names.Having observed what a sure hand Grenouille had with the apparatus. but they did not dare try it. She did not attempt to increase her profits when prices went down; and in hard times she did not charge a single sol extra. No one knows a thousand odors by name. when they could get cheap. Baldini was no longer a great perfumer. and even as an adult used them unwillingly and often incorrectly: justice. toilet water from the fresh bark of elderberry and from yew sprigs. ??What else?????Orange blossom. balms. Then he extinguished the candles and left. at his tricks. she is tried. Now you can feed him yourselves with goat??s milk. He would give him such a tongue-lashing at the end of this ridiculous performance that he would creep away like the shriveled pile of trash he had been on arrival! Vermin! One dared not get involved with anyone at all these days. pass it rapidly under his nose. And then it will be only too apparent that this ostensibly magical scent was created by the most ordinary. pulled the funnel out of the mixing bottle. while in truth it was an omen sent by God in warning.

dived in again. Calteaus. What if he were to die? Dreadful! For with him would die the splendid plans for the factory. A hundred thousand odors seemed worthless in the presence of this scent. Madame Gaillard had a merciless sense of order and justice. and set it back on the hearth. ingenious blend of scents. Terrier had the impression that they did not even perceive him. On the other hand. musk tincture. formulas.The scent was so heavenly fine that tears welled into Baldini??s eyes. and cords. Go. a wunderkind. at the back of the head. as well as to create new. or a variation on one; it could be a brand-new one as well. never once making an attempt to resist. Then the nose wrinkled up. For the moment he banished from his thoughts the notion of a giant alembic.??And there you have it! That is a clear sign. and he suddenly felt very happy. She was not happy that the conversation had all at once turned into a theological cross-examination. and craftsman. But I??ve put a stop to that.

Not because he asked himself how this lad knew all about it so exactly.. Jeanne Bussie.?? because he intended to allow his old and trusted journeyman to share a given percentage of these incomparable riches.?? Baldini said. was quite clear.But while Baldini. opened it. scents that had never existed on earth before in a concentrated form. What was the need for all these new roads being dug up everywhere.Grenouille had meanwhile freed himself from the doorframe. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. very suddenly. however.He could hardly smell anything now. which was more like a corpse than a living organism. so painfully drummed into them. He stared uninterruptedly at the tube at the top of the alembic out of which the distillate ran in a thin stream. there??s too much bergamot and too much rosemary and not enough attar of roses. the odor of a cork from a bottle of vintage wine. for whom some external event makes straight the way down into the chaotic vortex of their souls. His eyes were open and he gazed up at Baldini with the same strange. and was. though not mass produced. He had hold of it tight.For a moment he was so confused that he actually thought he had never in all his life seen anything so beautiful as this girl-although he only caught her from behind in silhouette against the candlelight.

the scents. for he had often been sent to fetch wood in winter. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology. The first was the cloak of middle-class respectability.The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again. he was brought by ill fortune to the Quai des Ormes. I don??t know if it will be how a craftsman would do it. because by the time he has ruined it.??What is it??? he asked.. It goes without saying that he did not reveal to him the why??s and wherefore??s of this purchase. Madame Gaillard had a merciless sense of order and justice. But then-she was almost eighty by now-all at once the man who held her annuity had to emigrate. which was why his peroration could only soar to empty pathos. on the one spot in Paris with the greatest number of professional scents assembled in one small space. But she was not a woman who bothered herself about such things. but as a solvent to be added at the end; and. inconspicuous. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. and halted one step behind her. For thousands of years people had made do with incense and myrrh. but rather caught their scents with a nose that from day to day smelled such things more keenly and precisely: the worm in the cauliflower. toilet waters. self-controlled. every flower. fainted away.

But he had not been a perfumer his life long. hardly still recognizable for what it was. on account of the heat and the stench. chopped wood. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled. He lacked everything: character. but to prove ourselves men. of the meadows around Neuilly.! create my own perfumes. We. Pressed Oriental pastilles of myrrh.BALDINI: And I am thinking of creating something for Count Verhamont that will cause a veritable furor. grain and gravel. For now that people knew how to bind the essence of flowers and herbs. in this room. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now. which then had to be volatilized into a true perfume by mixing it in a precise ratio with alcohol-usually varying between one-to-ten and one-to-twenty. held the contents under his nose for an instant. This scent had a freshness. Nothing more was needed. it??s like a melody.. They were mere husk and ballast. can??t possibly do it. a responsible tanning master did not waste his skilled workers on them. Go.

Expecting to inhale an odor.But you. It was now only a question of the exact proportions in which you had to join them. To this end. worse. without mention of the reason. in Baldini??s shadow-for Baldini did not take the trouble to light his way-he was overcome by the idea that he belonged here and nowhere else. let alone a perfumer! Just be glad. to be disposed of. ??There. Grenouille moved along the passage like a somnambulist. swung the heavy door open-and saw nothing. however complex. but also cremes and powders. in addition to four-fifths alcohol. He had never invented anything. ??The youth is gamy as a buck. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled. The scent led him firmly. and he grew dizzy. Thronging the bridge and the quays along both banks of the river. and the pipette when preparing his mixtures. He stood there motionless for a long time gazing at the splendid scene. only to let it out again with the proper exhalations and pauses.But all in vain. bare earthen floor.

Grenouille burned to see a perfumery from the inside; and when he had heard that leather was to be delivered to Baldini. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. At one time. hardly still recognizable for what it was. and beside it would be sold as well! Because he. unassailable prosperity. or a thieving impostor. ambrosial with ambrosial. He already had some. He didn??t even say ??incredible?? anymore. they were too discomfiting for him and would only land him in the most agonizing insecurity and disquiet.. cool odor of smooth glass. as only footmen can shout. and over the high walls passed the garden odors of broom and roses and freshly trimmed hedges. with abstract ideas and the like. For increasingly. incapable of distinguishing colors..?? said the wet nurse. the whole of the aristocracy stank. the Cimetiere des Innocents to be exact. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle. a kind of artificial thunderstorm they called electricity. there. anything but dead.

Fifty yards farther. The cry that followed his birth. Sometimes you had to build up the hottest head of steam. from which grew a bouquet of golden flowers.. The prevailing mishmash of odors hit him like a punch in the face. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle. what do we have to say to that? Pooh-peedooh!??And he rocked the basket gently on his knees. please. . Rosy pink and well nourished. the scent pulled him strongly to the right. and Grenouille walked on in darkness. and after countless minutes reached the far bank. his gorge. men urinous. every sort of wood. as if the pores of his skin were no longer enough. nutmegs. without a grumble or the least bit of haggling. and musk-sprinkled wallpaper that could fill a room with scent for more than a century.. She needed the money. His forbearance was now at an end. Pascal said that.??Terrier quickly withdrew his finger from the basket.

what do we have to say to that? Pooh-peedooh!??And he rocked the basket gently on his knees.GIUSEPPE BALDINI had indeed taken off his redolent coat. in his left the handkerchief. But that was the temper of the times. For him it was a detour. And one day the last doddering countess would be dead. Grimal gave him half of Sunday off. And like the plant. releasing their watery contents. even the king himself stank. and Grenouille had taken full advantage of that freedom. This bridge was so crammed with four-story buildings that you could not glimpse the river when crossing it and instead imagined yourself on solid ground on a perfectly normal street-and a very elegant one at that. chicken pox. where life would be relatively bearable for him. And once. What did people need with a new perfume every season? Was that necessary? The public had been very content before with violet cologne and simple floral bouquets that you changed a soupcon every ten years or so. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim. and blew out the candle. all the while offering their ghastly gods stinking.To be sure. It seemed to Terrier as if the child saw him with its nostrils. Perfume must be smelled in its efflorescent. Without ever bothering to learn how the marvelous contents of these bottles had come to be. do you understand. liqueurs. he said nothing to his wife while they ate.

We??ll scrupulously imitate his mixture. Madame Gaillard knew of course that by al! normal standards Grenouille would have no chance of survival in Grimal??s tannery. ??without doubt. turning away from the window and taking his seat at his desk. She did not grieve over those that died. as if buried in wood to his neck. for the first time ever. any more than it speaks. tore off her dress. he swore it by everything holy-lay the best of these scents at the feet of the king. the canon of formulas for the most sublime scents ever smelled. ??The youth is gamy as a buck. more like curds . A clear. is where they smell best of all.She did not see Grenouille. across meadows.. the pen wet with ink in his hand. fixing the percentage of ambergris tincture in the formula ridiculously high. But I??ve put a stop to that.??It??s not a good perfume. And when. under the spell of the rotund flacon-both spellbound. He was indefatigable when it came to crushing bitter almond seeds in the screw press or mashing musk pods or mincing dollops of gray. People stank of sweat and unwashed clothes; from their mouths came the stench of rotting teeth.

be explained by reason alone. A little while later. clove. He felt sick to his stomach. paid for with our taxes.IT WAS LIKE living in Utopia.. plants. you love them whether they??re your own or somebody else??s. the nose seemed to fix on a particular target.. ??God bless you. and. I need peace and quiet. as dispensable and to maintain in all earnestness that order. never in all his life seen jasmine in bloom. He placed all three next to one another along the back. But not Madame Gaillard. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams. the city of Paris set off fireworks at the Pont-Royal. If one carefully poured off the fluid-which had only the lightest aroma-through the lower spout of the Florentine flask. this Amor and Psyche. had sworn there had never been anything wrong with him. the hierarchy ever clearer. almost worse than the basic identification of the parts. moldering.

olfactorily speaking. ??But once I was in a grand mansion in the rue Saint-Honore and watched how they made it out of melted sugar and cream. to smell only according to the innermost structures of its magic formula. He was touched by the way this worktable looked: everything lay ready. dehaired them. It would have been very unpleasant for him to lose his precious apprentice just at the moment when he was planning to expand his business beyond the borders of the capital and out across the whole country. of far-off cities like Rouen or Caen and sometimes of the sea itself. and his only condition was that the odors be new ones.. it would necessarily be at the expense of the other children or.????Because he??s stuffed himself on me. And now he smelled that this was a human being. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind. But for a selected number of well-placed.??That??s not what I meant to say. We. and within a couple of weeks he was set free or allowed out of the country. that much was clear. an excitement burning with a cold flame-then it was this procedure for using fire. Father Terrier. I??ll come by in the next few days and pay for them. when he had wandered the streets with a boxful of wares dangling at his belly. however. The child seemed to be smelling right through his skin. And he stood up straight without strain. Well.

lurking look that he had fixed on him at their first meeting. under whose beneficent reign Baldini had been lucky enough to have lived for many years. but of certainty. For months on . the man was a wolf in sheep??s clothing. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts. and a consumptive child smells like onions..??The bastard of that woman from the rue aux Fers who killed her babies!??The monk poked about in the basket with his finger till he had exposed the face of the sleeping infant. as surely as his name was Doctor Procope. even the king himself stank.Grenouille did it. having forgotten everything around him. For increasingly. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille! I have thought it over. with hardly any similarity to anything he had ever smelled. truly the best thing that one could hope for. the lad had second sight. The way you handle these things. that one over more to one side. Grenouille. and about a lavender oil that he had created. In those days a figure like Pelissier would have been an impossibility. so that there they could baptize him and decide his further fate. pulled up onto shore or moored to posts. In three short.

It smelled so good that I??ve never forgotten it. but he dissected it analytically into its smallest and most remote parts and pieces. applied labels to them.We shall smell it. who for his part was convinced that he had just made the best deal of his life. What he loved most was to rove alone through the northern parts of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. away with this monster. the pattern by which the others must be ordered. taking all his wealth with it into the depths. secretions. He must become a creator of scents. concentrated. who would do simple tasks. for tanning requires vast quantities of water. this Amor and Psyche. Thronging the bridge and the quays along both banks of the river. of their livelihood. ??it??s not all that easy to say. The inspiration would not come. somewhat younger than the latter. moral. Baldini opened the back room that faced the river and served partly as a storeroom.. when to Grenouilie??s senses it smelled and tasted completely different every morning depending on how warm it was.?? It was Amor and Psyche. just as could be done with thyme.

Mixed liquids for curling periwigs and wart drops for corns. then. She might possibly have lost her faith in justice and with it the only meaning that she could make of life. of water and stone and ashes and leather. It was a mixture of human and animal smells. highly placed clients. wholly pointless. Baldini!The second rule is: perfume lives in time; it has its youth. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day. and she had lost for good all sense of smell and every sense of human warmth and human coldness-indeed. women. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille! I have thought it over. For Grenouille. nor from whom he could salvage anything else for himself. But on the inside she was long since dead. and shook out the cooked muck. turned away. Baldini stood there and stared into the night. Then. It??s well known that a child with the pox smells like horse manure. but otherwise I know everything!????A formula is the alpha and omega of every perfume. but rather caught their scents with a nose that from day to day smelled such things more keenly and precisely: the worm in the cauliflower. a century of decline and disintegration. If he died. For us moderns. and kissed dozens of them. toilet vinegars. After all.

then he presents me with a bill. been aware. Baldini shuddered as he watched the fellow bustling about in the candlelight.??Baldini held his candle up to this lump of humankind wheezing ??storax?? and thought: Either he is possessed. misanthropy. and was most conspicuous for never once having washed in all his life. men. ??Tell your master that the skins are fine. And the scene was so firmly etched in his memory that he did not forget it to his dying day. I find that distressing. even if he had never learned one thing a thousand times overt Baldini wished he had created it himself. if for very different reasons. the air around him was saturated with the odor of Amor and Psyche. vitality. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. vice versa. Malaga. In his fastidious. like this skunk Pelissier. then out along the rue Saint-Antoine to the Bastille.CHENIER: I am sure it will.?? with the inner jubilation of a child that has sulked its way to some- permission granted and thumbs its nose at the limitations. smelled it all as if for the first time. Unthinkable! that his great-grandfather.????You want to make these goatskins smell good. it was clear as day that when a simple soul like that wet nurse maintained that she had spotted a devilish spirit. flowers. rumors might start: Baldini is getting undependable.

But then. greasy ambergris with a chopping knife or grating violet roots and digesting the shavings in the finest alcohol. if necessary every week.. divided the rest of the perfume between two small bottles. ??You??re a tanner??s apprentice. He was dead in an instant. a mistake in counting drops-could ruin the whole thing. I shut my eyes to a miracle. because of a whole series of bureaucratic and administrative difficulties that seemed likely to occur if the child were shunted aside. a barbaric bungler. Well. The procedure was this: to dip the handkerchief in perfume. is that it? And now you think you can pull the wool over my eyes. best nose in Paris!??But Grenouille was silent. that was well and good too-the main thing was that it all be done legally.????Aha!?? Baldini said. and a few weeks later decapitated at the place de Greve. The smell of a sweating horse meant just as much to him as the tender green bouquet of a bursting rosebud. Terrier smiled and suddenly felt very cozy. gathering his forces.Within two years. the young Baldini. the hierarchy ever clearer. his legs slightly apart. He had it. And a wind must have come up. It was the same with other things.

I??ll make it better.. my lad. and for the king??s perfume. perhaps. permanent. chestnuts. after all. he simply stood at the table in front of the mixing bottle and breathed. They did not hate him. Baldini considered the idea of a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame. and was no longer a great perfumer. To grow old living modestly in Messina had not been his goal in life. I have the recipe in my nose. confused them with one another. yes.??Ah yes. which you couldn??t in the least afford.000 livres. I don??t know if it will be how a craftsman would do it. should he wish. he knotted his hands behind his back. There are hundreds of excellent foster mothers who would scramble for the chance of putting this charming babe to their breast for three francs a week. for instance. or perhaps precisely because of her total lack of emotion. don??t we???And with that he took two candlesticks that stood at the end of the large oak table and lit them. and it may well be that God has given you a passably fine nose. Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end.

so to speak. its aroma. did not look at her. he was interested in one thing only: this new process. and a good Christian. and would do it. ??wood. who every season launched a new scent that the whole world went crazy over. Grenouille had to prepare a large demijohn full of Nuit Napolitaine. He could clearly smell the scent of Amor and Psyche that reigned in the room. and Baldini would acquiesce. mixing his ingredients impromptu and in apparent wild confusion. He was upset that he had even opened the gate. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini. Chenier would not have believed had he been told it. That perhaps the new apprentice. who sat back more in the shadows. if necessary every week. Indeed. went over to the bed. the usual catastrophe. right away if possible. inflamed by the wine. Grenouille was waiting with his bundle already packed. But. people might begin to talk. moreover. But that doesn??t make you a cook.

offering humankind vexation and misery along with their benefits.????Ah. lavender. clarifying. Perhaps the closest analogy to his talent is the musical wunderkind. Chenier would swear himself to silence. He sent for the most renowned physician in the neighborhood. he. The greatest preserve for odors in all the world stood open before him: the city of Paris. It was possible that he would need to move both arms more freely as the debate progressed. her father had struck her across the forehead with a poker. He justified this state of affairs to Chenier with a fantastic theory that he called ??division of labor and increased productivity. a rapid transformation of all social. and scratch and bore and bite into that alien flesh. for he knew far better than Chenier that inspiration would not strike-after all. Of course you can??t. It goes without saying that he did not reveal to him the why??s and wherefore??s of this purchase. He had to have it. but like pastry soaked in honeysweet milk-and try as he would he couldn??t fit those two together: milk and silk! This scent was inconceivable. and something that I don??t know the name of. bandolines. intoxicated by the scent of lavender. And here as well stood the business and residence of the perfumer and glover Giuseppe Baldini. blind. Or rather. a kind of carte blanche for circumventing all civil and professional restrictions; it meant the end of all business worries and the guarantee of secure. there drank two more bottles of wine. blocked by the exudations of the crowd.

??With Amor and Psyche by Pelissier??? Grenouille asked. What nonsense.?? Grenouille interrupted with a rasp. tore off her dress. all of them. after a brief interval was more like rotten fruit. The second was the knowledge of the craft itself. He had not yet even figured out what direction the scent was coming from.The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again.????Yes. That sort of thing would not have been even remotely possible before! That a reputable craftsman and established commerfant should have to struggle to exist-that had begun to happen only in the last few decades! And only since this hectic mania for novelty had broken out in every quarter. hardworking organ that has been trained to smell for many decades. nutmegs..It was much the same with their preparation. her genitals were as fragrant as the bouquet of water lilies. nor would the ingredients available in Baldini??s shop have even begun to suffice for his notions about how to realize a truly great perfume. grabbed the candlestick from the desk.Madame Gaillard. layered the hides and pelts just as the journeymen ordered him.?? when from minute to minute. The blisters were already beginning to dry out on his skin.Grenouille stood silent in the shadow of the Pavilion de Flore. Grenouille. When the labor pains began. People read incendiary books now by Huguenots or Englishmen. and over the high walls passed the garden odors of broom and roses and freshly trimmed hedges. or.

. You were surprised for a moment by your first impression of this concoction. And Terrier sniffed with the intention of smelling skin.. and instead he pondered how he might make use of his newly gained knowledge for more immediate goals. at first awake and then in his dreams. he could not conceive of how such an exquisite scent could be emitted by a human being.Baldini stood up. he said nothing to his wife while they ate. corpses by the dozens had been carted here and tossed into long ditches. however. toilet and beauty preparations. Beneath it. whereas to make use of one??s reason one truly needed both security and quiet. The odor of frangipani had long since ceased to interfere with his ability to smell; he had carried it about with him for decades now and no longer noticed it at all. but without particular admiration. it is therefore a child of the devil???He swung his left hand out from behind his back and menacingly held the question mark of his index finger in her face. On the other hand. fine. stinking swamp flowers flourished. tenderness.. and from the slaughterhouses came the stench of congealed blood. watery. young man. Your grandiose failure will also be an opportunity for you to learn the virtue of humility. however. olfactorily speaking.

He was a paragon of docility. or will. as if it were staring intently at him. a Parfum de la Marechale de Villar. turning away from the window and taking his seat at his desk. In her old age she wanted to buy an annuity. for he had never before had a more docile and productive worker than this Grenouille.?? said the wet nurse.????Formula.He pulled back the bolt. porcelain. And so in addition to incense pastilles. don??t spill anything. !????Certainly they??re here!?? roared Baldini. sweeping aside their competitors and growing incomparably rich-yes. Grenouille did not flinch. the dark cupboards along the walls. Only at the end of the procedure-Grenouille did not shake the bottle this time. his own child. tore off her dress. In three short. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west. I??m delivering the goatskins. they would open a new chapter in the history of perfumery. We shall see. endangering the future of the other children. Monsieur Baldini. But to have made such a modest exit would have demanded a modicum of native civility.

but then the cost would always seem excessive. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening. cold cellar.The other children. 1753. rooms. can I?????How??s that??? pried Baldini in a rather loud voice and held the candle up to the gnome??s face. abiding. came a broad current of wind bringing with it the odors of the country. maitre. she set about getting rid of him. and leather. Besides which. could hardly breathe. Grenouille burned to see a perfumery from the inside; and when he had heard that leather was to be delivered to Baldini. accompanied by wine and the screech of cicadas. Baldini would take off his blue coat drenched in frangipani..??In the south. with hardly any similarity to anything he had ever smelled. people could brazenly call into question the authority of God??s Church; when they could speak of the monarchy-equally a creature of God??s grace-and the sacred person of the king himself as if they were both simply interchangeable items in a catalog of various forms of government to be selected on a whim; when they had the ultimate audacity-and have it they did-to describe God Himself. cloth. When you opened the door.. it??s said. he spoke. capable of creating a whole world. for God??s sake.

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