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The whole enormous sadness of a shirt (With proper title credit to Jack Kerouac) The whole enormous sadness of a shirt at the discount store, three sizes too large and on a broken hanger at that. You do not want to be there, in that store nor in that city -- much more so the city. Duty is far more concretely observable, far more patently obvious than love, but not the least bit holy nor honourable. From the grave, Dag has asked you, "Have you fancied another sort of burden?" From the grave, Dag has scolded you, "It is easy to be nice -- from lack of character." This whole enormous sadness from a shirt that would not even properly fit you; that was probably sewn by cheated labour; that is in a city where you are unmasked; that calls you to a greater sacrifice. (The title is from a sentence from Jack Kerouac's On The Road, Part 1, Chapter 10. The quotes in italics are from Dag Hammarskjold's book Markings.)