From a precocious
age I had fancied the fantastic, financing my foreign forays of ageing whores
and post-opium malaise by conning the needier, or paying Paul to rob Peter and
other schemes in which the scheming was oh so seedier.
And yet the finer
things in life such as duck flambé on a Bangkok holiday or naked serenades from
the tribal women from the unexplored regions between Borneo and the Jakarta Bay
have not tamed my lust for fortune and fame.
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