Explore "Nexus" by Henry Miller on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
For days the after-effects of Ricardo's visit hung over me. To add to my distress, Christmas was almost upon us. It was the season of the year I not only loathed but dreaded. Since attaining manhood I had never known a good Christmas. No matter how I fought against it, Christmas Day always found me in the bosom of the family – the melancholy knight wrapped in his black armour, forced like every other idiot in Christendom to stuff his belly and listen to the utterly empty babble of his kin.
Though I had said nothing as yet about the coming event – if only it were the celebration of the birth of a free spirit! – I kept wondering under what circumstances, in what condition of mind and heart, the two of us would find ourselves on that festive doomsday.