She was able to exhaust life just as thoroughly as travel from her bed or from the couch when necessary, or when she preferred to remain in one place, perfectly still, staring calmly out a window, her rich imagination traveling at break neck speed, a book of poetry splayed open on her chest as she drifted off to sleep.
His daily life-experience was best described by a persistent thought which tried to filter its way through his head as he walked along Michigan Avenue, how each car in this morning's rush hour seemed to flow directly into him and disappear within the dark, echoing forests of his past instead of harmlessly passing by him, as if he were a portal from which nothing ever returned, though the image of every object hovered before his face, in his wide line of vision, as if on the event horizon of a massive black hole, making it difficult for him to see what was coming and where he was going.
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