The confederacy of dunces is simply not accustomed to the whims of the wider world, Rémi says. They want their excrement handed to them, pretty, wrapped in proper packaging. "Mmm, and how delicious my shit is, too! Eat it! Eat it up!"

Rémi sidesteps the "shit" and instead reexamines having said "delicious"; after a beat, he asks if he can have the rest of my sandwich, and I oblige.

How enthralling it is to earn, after all, he continues between bites. Challenge became the norm, and the obstacles grew, expanded at our own hands; and when we found ourselves staring at the void, we toed at its edges until we tumbled forward, laughing, disregarding the adolescent boys and girls gripping the walls, perched on their ledges, throwing their eyes into the back of their heads; and egged on by their emphatic apathy, we accelerated our ascent to its terminal velocity.

And if only to not stay still!

And why would we?
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