He was a moderately successful man. Still had all his teeth, and a man with all his teeth has not suffered the acrimony of the world. Have you met such a fellow?
Perjure is full of them. Deep sleepers one and all. Until the world bites.
I knew him a little. Well... as much as you can know such a shallow, affable pool of a bloke. No depths to plumb, but the possibility there might one day be. Perjure has a way of finding these people out. Perjure knows how to deepen the mere.
He was a moderately successful man. All the Bruised Poets of Perjure were. Go to the Vale of Last Drinks, talk to the toothless, the broken, the scribblers.
Tell them I sent you.
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