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Tropic of Cancer (Sea of Faces)













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Excerpt from Tropic of Cancer
(Henry Miller)




























Strolling past the Dome a little later suddenly I see a pale, heavy face and burning eyes-and the little velvet suit that I always adore because under the soft velvet there were always her warm breasts, the marble legs, cool, firm, muscular. She rises up out of a sea of faces and embraces me, embraces me passionately-a thousand eyes, noses, fingers, legs, bottles, windows, purses, saucers all glaring at us and we in each other's arm oblivious. I sit down beside her and she talks- a flood of talk. Wild consumptive notes of hysteria, perversion, leprosy. I hear not a word because she is beautiful and I love her and now I am happy and willing to die.

































































































Henry Miller