Last night, on our kitchen table, was a copy of The Virtue of Selfishness, a book of essays on Ayn Rand's philosoply, Objectivism. Also on the table was a book about Buddhism. I don't remember the title or author of that one, we have many. I picked each book up, one in either hand, and held them at arm's lenght. I moved them slowly towards each other, wondering if they would destroy each other in a burst of energy when they touched. They didn't. Now they are stacked on top of each other on the table.
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