He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. . To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. She didn’t know anything more about your mom. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly.
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