You would think that flinging the laptop from the Eiffel Tower, or into the Grand Canyon, would provide more than adequate satisfaction, but it wouldn't do at all, it wouldn't come close, because such a ridiculous height wouldn't provide the ultimate, necessary experience, which was in fact the end of the line; no, what he really wanted was to drop the damn thing from a parking ramp, maybe three or four stories high, so that he could still see and hear its demise.
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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