Every now and then, I poke my head out of my shell and notice that life is going on out there around me. There is music to drink, women to dance, and wine to spill in lickable droplets across delectible flesh. I see all that from a safe distance, and feel it's passion brush across my face like a hot wind. And then I withdraw back into my shell and go about my important business of grinding my soul into money and getting my new World of Warcraft character of a high enough level in leathermaking to start his own sweatshop for underprivilaged gnomes.
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