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The Ugly- A. Boldizar
We returned to Ansongo for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and endless hot Corpa-Colas while the sun consumed the sky. (...)
Amadou tapped the bottle he was drinking against the plastic lawn chair he was sitting on. “This is the king of Africa. This is the power of the white man. Only when Africa is united , one magic, can we defeat Corpa-Cola.”
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An American Seer
A woman a good deal younger than he is tells Stieglitz the anguish she is undergoing. He replies, “You see, in a sense, I am happy I have lived to be my age, before meeting you at yours. I not only understand all too well what you are going through, but just because I am as old as I am and have had experiences similar to yours, I easily could suggest shortcuts you might take in order to avoid what you otherwise must suffer. But, having reached my age, I know that if I were to mention such shortcuts to you, and you were to follow my advice, everything you would do in its name would go wrong”
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Why had he chosen to step off the platform and fall beneath the train? Why did he choose to plunge into nothingness, into the void of faceless faces, of soundless voices, lying outside history? I tried to step away and look at it from a distance of words read in books, half-remembered. For history records the patterns of men's lives, they say: Who slept with whom and with what results; who fought and who won and who lived to lie about it afterwards. All things, it is said, are duly recorded- all things of importance, that is. But not quite, for actually it is only the known, the seen, the heard and only those events that the recorder regards as important that are put down, those lies his keepers keep their power by. But the cop would be Clifton's historian, his judge, his witness, and his executioner, and I was the only brother in the watching crowd. And I, the only witness for the defense, knew neither the extent of his guilt, nor the nature of his crime. Where were the historians today?And how would they put it down?
Ralph Ellison, INVISIBLE MAN
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