Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. They walked two by two to the car, looking the part of 267 two weary spouses supporting their drunken mates after an all-night bender. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. Leonardo he was my—’ ‘Don’t say it,’ Gerald cut in hoarsely. Still no sound.
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