Mr. Wilson can hardly be unaware that once a writer chooses to youthen or resurrect a word, it lives again.
He nods, time traveling to a point when there were no central lines, no low blood counts, no immunosuppressive drugs. His face youthens momentarily as he bridges back to a point on a timeline that has none of this devastation on it.
... Then he is able to erect this stable edifice of a worldview on it. He knows one thing to ...
... Especially, to be sat there one side and then, the Paris ...