The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. I’m going to that stupid party at the Vorsack’s to get to the bottom of it. Voilà tout. “Dear old daddy!” she said, and was amazed to find herself shedding tears. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMi4xNzkuMTYxIC0gMTktMDYtMjAyNCAyMjoyOToxOSAtIDExNDY0NDAyNw==
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