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It had all gone-gone but where it had gone he couldn't say. Like a 5 year old, he rubbed his eyes to wake up. Following an instinctive response that was a yearning overwhelming his common sense, he felt the impulse to stretch forth toward Seoul: toward adventure in the masses and bathing the rational mind in sensual massage. He wanted meretricious sex. Young men encroached on his mind in droves.
He's gone, my money's gone, my dear money my dear, dear gold pieces that I've worked so hard for. Oh, to have deserted me gone for good gone and never coming back gone with my gold pieces. Gone-gone gone. I'll never see them again, and I've worked so hard, so so hard for him for them. No, no, NO, it's not true. It IS true. What will become of me now?
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