The ecstasy threatened to spill over his mouth, lips, teeth and eyes. He considered it wise to suppress his feelings. ‘The time is just not right,’ he reasoned, ‘one should not look or sound too happy.’ Last few days he had been extremely irritable, depressed and angry. He felt deprived, poor and powerless—to the extent that his deprivation made him rather depraved. He couldn't find joy in anything: in the home prepared dishes presented to him, in making petty conversation with the members of the family all sitting at home for days, in the occasional errands for him, in watching the television news or surfing the smart phones and so on. Every day he went out with his car—apart from the regular visits to the grocery stores, the vegetable and fruit shops he mostly roamed around the city looking for his valuable acquaintances in key trades, and trying to convince whomsoever he managed to catch up with of the hopeless situation. However, they too expressed their helplessness; n
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