Stumbled upon 3 torn out pages of a book today.
Blowing around in the wind, stained from the rain and torn from peoples footsteps.
Here's an extract
"All is a gray shadow- a weak and irregular rememberance- an indistinct regathering of feeble pleasures and plantasmagoric pains. With me this is not so. In childhood I must have felt with the energy of a man what I now find stamped upon a memory in lines as vivid, as deep, and as durable as the exergues of the carthaginian medals."
I now have the ability to complete someones story, and they could complete mine.