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Idealism and its inescapable pain of disappointment

Idealism, Warts and the Inescapable Pain of Disappointment


B F Moloney

Smashwords edition copyright B F Moloney 2013

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Idealism, Warts and the Inescapable Pain of Disappointment

Gerard’s body is covered in warts. And a great number are spread nicely around his body, except the soles of his feet. Gerard’s waddling walking gait won’t let them grow. They might come should he get mentally idle. Some warts look like cauliflowers, others sunflower heads, some miniature mesas; some are like seaweed polyps, and on closer inspection, a few look like crowns. Gerard the Papillomavirus Man. That’s what his beer garden mates call him when they’re sober. Papi for short, when they’re drunk. Forget William Morris and his elegant designs. Forget Jackson Pollock’s palate thrashings. Gerard is that curious landscape of mercurial lumps. Many are tattooed with different colours; red and blue, yellow, black and his favourite orange; because carrots, his favourite vegetable, are to him more orange than oranges; and besides, oranges give him reflux.

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