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Out of Africa, by Karen Blixen
Once I killed an iguana. I was rejoicing in advance, thinking of everything I could do with its skin. I then saw something I will never forget.
As I walked through the twenty steps that separated it from me, I saw it wither before my eyes as if all it’s shine expired in a long breath, and when I got to touch it it was just a lump of cement, grey and dull.
It is the blood that runs under its skin that gives this magnificent shine. Once the flamme has been put out, and the soul has flown away it does no longer exist: it becomes a lump of sand”.
“J’ai tué une fois un iguane, je me réjouissais à l’avance de tout ce que je pourrais faire de sa peau, et je fus témoin d’un phénomène que je n’ai jamais oublié.
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