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156 pages, Paperback
First published August 1, 1998
'But happiness doesn't make for interesting stories. Someone once said that happiness writes white. It's fleeting and transparent, like smoke or fog. Do you know any painter who could paint smoke?
If I go and see Agnes now, I thought, that'll be it for ever. It's hard to explain, although I loved her and had been happy with her, it was only when she wasn't there that I felt I was free. And my freedom had always mattered more to me than my happiness. Maybe that was what my girlfriends meant when they talked about my egoism.