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Locked in mock violence with this laughing little girl, her fists flaying at his palms as she picks up the trick of bodily injury, he sees that the unique achievement of this species, the thing that recursive consciousness ultimately permits, is the pretense that one does not actually manifest a trait even when taking maximum advantage of it. Everything the hominid branch has achievedβevery treatise, tower, or diatonic tuneβcame about from surviving two out of three falls, prettying up the results after the fact.
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