There was nothing the master liked more than setting out to survey his estate. Sometimes the peasants would invite him in to share some black bread and tea. Wary of germs, he preferred to bring his own meal. #TolstoysTalesofTrump

Oct 6, 2019 · 6:22 PM UTC

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Replying to @RobertEllsberg
It was in these moments, alone with his meal, that a palatable unease would dine with him; the silent sense of being fraction whose numerator is what he is and whose denominator is what he thinks of himself. Of course, the larger the denominator, the smaller the fraction.
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