Having been moved by what he had found in a manila envelope stuffed with letters that had summoned up remembrance of lost times, Felix Fist began a dedicated search through other storage boxes, one containing weathered notebooks into which he had entered observations of varying consistency and regularity. Reading through five years of those entries that spanned four decades, Fist learns without surprise why he found himself where he now lived and what he lived for, his gradual awakening helping him accept with resignation and often remorse all he had done to others and to himself.
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