The auspicious days

Stories of ecstasy

The days of youth were the days of paradise. Perhaps I wasted them, or perhaps I made too much a fuss of those- I can’t understand yet, though one thing I understand, there is no power more colorful and more valiant than the power of youth.

I remember the child who was less human and has the traits of a monkey, the teacher’s whip that came crackling on the head, and the exotic anecdotes of innocent mischief.

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