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Updated: June 20, 2025
In the meane time 'tis fit we should give hearing To the French Embassadors, who, I know, come now To mediat for him. Bred. Wayt upon them in: Their Propositions shalbe answeard freely, And by such men as are their frends, not Servants. Enter Boisise, Morier, Wife, Daughter, Attendants. Boi . We will plead for him and prevaile, we doubt not.
Had they not become soul mates for the reason that each of them had possessed empathy for the other innocent being charred in the torturous hells of family? He had not even known her. In all of these years of marriage on top of those comprising their friendship of youth he had not known her any more than one did the strangest of strangers. "Still tired," asked Nawin. "Of course," said Boi.
The train acquaintance, if he were such, now seemed older than before, and the liquid blueprint, which he was subconsciously yearning for, a less viably transferable product. This Boi asked them other questions in the Laotian tongue that he could not comprehend at all on the fourth shot of whiskey and their furrowed faces answered him although the substance of this he could not determine firmly.
And then I heard a voice I knew, the voice of the Irishman, "Four-Eyes." "Is it the boi ye're mindin', bedad?" "Ay, sir, he's moved a point." "The poor divil. Throw him a sheet, one av yer; it's meself that's not bringing the guv'ner a dead body when he wants a live one, be Saint Pathrick!"
Such a literature has Chess collected about it since Paolo Boi, "the great Syracusan," as he was called, wrote what perhaps was the first work on chess, in the middle of the sixteenth century.
With conversation continuing to seem cogent, moving on stretched, unraveled ends, Boi was on the verge of accepting Nawin as a womanizer and might have possibly done so were it not for the artist's cowardly withdrawal into himself which befuddled the befuddlement. Nawin had turned away and was staring at the fan clipping speedily at the air.
However, as even more time went by so her life became inextricable with her sense of his success and it could not be any more comfortably extracted than that of her teeth. "Are you waiting here for someone?" "If someone comes, yes." "And if no one does?" Boi smiled. "Then I would eventually leave, wouldn't I?" "I suppose so."
Due to the extent of his boredom, to Boi he was a suspicious character, an ambiguous puzzle needing to be solved and a landscape of contrasts to set his claim upon. Nawin sensed this intrigue but gained no satisfaction from it.
Then this too, this relinquishing oneself to the void to cease this expending of one's energy in sifting through all of these illusions in illusionary existence, formulating "reality" based upon garnering the most plausible of the illusions, ceased with hearing the loud yawning of this stranger named Boi.
Loss of this money would be an invisible extraction from his savings, an easy riddance. This rational element schemed was as pretentious an affectation as the clothes he wore or any clothes for that matter. Both were bodies and he had an inexorable yearning to see this Boi 1 naked, to devour and be devoured in wetness, unity, and sensation with him.
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