epitome of incomprehensibility
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When in Belgium, consider what years of schooling in literature and linguistics have taught you: that you don't want to be a literary critic or linguist. You just want to be a writer, doggone it. Because you look at "doggone" and think, "Yes, the dog is gone from me. I am in Concordia's Belgium, like Concordia's Ireland and India, and none of these imagined nations will let me bring the dog." The dog is not a service dog. Are you a service person? What job can you get, so bogged in thought? What god, what jot?
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