Some books in the different past are available from the same authors. For example, if Agatha Christie did not die early, she could write another 100s of books. In such case, we have a chance of finding such books in a tiny time chance like adding some protection on her living and made her write more!
This is the James Joyce's extra story from his young age writing.
Before the Breakfast
The story based on the monumental death of the old mother's chosen fiance.
Around 200pages long and was the 17 years old time draught but 18 years old to notice the scenes.
The old man wanted a boy. A boy? A rande-vouz? that was the coincidental fiance making. A woman wanted to ride a poet instead of a bicycle. She saw the boy's newly bought old wagon car parked outside of the Dublin's busiest residential area as the brick block box style living stories. the man wanted to give her a ride to Gravein 'hospital' the mother called it as so. A hospital? Why not? Mother? Your legs are till attached to yours... He mentioned politely from his driver's seat while the woman wearing like the curly white hair as if a young girl sat on the passenger seat. Why not, mother? On the back seat, maybe? The girl was suited to be on this side. So, I take the seat with you, hahaha. The girly smile was way tool old with her scar image lines on her cheeks. But the boy was already 28 and the mother of two young adults was 76 already. So, the boy wanted to be married or engaged soon. Thus, they discussed about the marriage blues in the wagon while the woman only wanted to show her girlish respect examining her blight pink color purse held on her white gloves. It worked as the image of the clean and eccentric mother. And it only took 20 minutes of the driving. the mother corrected that only we spent 8 minutes on the tire while we spent 12 minutes or more on the luxuries at the gas pedal shop. We watched the jewels sold nearby and the little sisters were eager to steal the dress poach out from their motherly figure to head to the candy store nearby. The two gents.. would be suited for the mother. The old woman laughed. She is still sexy. The young boy thought.
They attended the mass and the funeral both in the chapel nearby. And the Gravein church was full. That was one of the old math and science professor's death next door cerebrated and moaned. And theirs was the small old Jewish cap wearing old grandfather of his. He was a congregational Jew exiled from Spain and died in Dublin. It went like in the Hong Kong marching. She was in sore view while the man wondered if he was called as the Jew next or not. Meanwhile, some air engines were bombing the sky and oceans in the faraway countries. "You, based on Judaism, you expelled." The male confectioner shouted. "Ouch!" The man moaned. "I moan for you!" The old father was scolded in the coffin. The man's father scolded his mouth. Then, the man was also asked to leave but he was bravely stated, "I'm a Jewish young man. I'm a Catholic yet Jewish origin." "Bravo! Catholic!" Some cheering craps came from the young professors' teams. Thus, we brought both Jewish origin man and the boy to be in the citizenship forever party making in the graveyard. The congregational priest concluded. And there was this phew type booing from the mother' side. "And she dropped two women? It sounds like garbage to me." A bad mouth elite kid shouted as a joke on the old woman next to his. That was the mother of the young nephew. "You guys as young gentlemen do not know how difficult for a young Jewish woman to raise a kid these days." The woman hysterically nagged and cried and squatted on the ground while she covered her face with her hands with the white groves. She was wearing the green velvet dress with some dark green pompom accents. The men murmured as the shame on their own as the careless professor alike. A woman showed up from their thugs and shouted to the woman. "My, my. Young lady. I'm also a Jew!" She scolded other young boys. The man observed the young professors who are complaining how to apologize a woman properly after she crashed on the grass crying in her dress. He thought, "I could take care of that scene by my own." As his imagination as a James Joyce sense of humor. "As a boy, I'm a Jew." He confessed. He drop his bowler hat to his hand and he wore the dark brown suit. There were some others moaning like "A young professor is a Jew." And it went as another woman showed up as the first Jew confessing woman's sister. "A Jew! I'm a Jew!" This time, it was a Jew joke. The young boy's father, felt comfortably, communicated with each. "So, who is the suitor for my Jew?" The man introduced himself as the young boy's father. "Why, I'm pennyless." The boy confessed in the old Jewish style showing his trousers' empty pocket upside down. Another laughter. The girls stood on both sides of him for the greater evaluation. To have a heart call? None! The woman to his right wearing a red color dress and a circled hat shouted, "To me, he is a young brother!" So, she wrapped her hands around to his right arm with the expectation of the male mightiness checking. "Can you hold up for me?" She was playing such a young way. "For me, ... is enough." The girl shouted passionately after the examination of his jaw line with her right hand covered in the laced and washing scent smell added glove. The woman kissed his lip passionately while she wore a red lipstick on. "Wow." The woman to the right shocked and covered her mouth showing her defeat clearly. "And you see me.." The woman found it a gorgeous line but the man's father scolded her. "Young lady, I'm not a young lad's father anymore! Go home! A man could threw something toward the nasty woman. "What a..." These men were stoned to the scene.
"Ladies, this is the funeral spot." The young and old priests coughed. "If you want the honky talk, please do it at the old pubs." And the young second lady was scolded by the old priest. She was wearing the nice white dress with red large marks as the accent. The woman smiled back to the crowed and left. Meanwhile, the lost young gent was standing in the crying face. There was only one more woman around wrapping her hand on his waist. "I see you. Tomorrow." The girl was laughing and wrapping her hand around his waist and dancing around for the short time victory of owning a man. "The competition went to the third one!" It was the praising sound from the crowd. "Yay, it's my nephew. Skine." He commented quietly with one hand on his hat again but this time he did not really removed it for the gesture. "He must be popular in the emporium if he attend the class with us..." Some people murmured in envy.
"Mom, I wanted to take a bike with me instead of the hatch." The boy carried away the girly image woman on her bike rented from one of the professor. The woman knew the man from the nearby college. And his father took the pedal of the wagon back with three other women to the charity party to toss the bandanna out from the pub statue as the gesture of forgetting the old business of the old man's own. So, it was the cleaning jobs and jokes left to the young volunteering girls. Meanwhile, the boy went back home with his mother. And he ate the light corn and potato soup in his bed. He ate the apple only half potion and left to sleep after his mother scolded him of not doing any house choir on his own. But it was a nasty after the rain day and it was humid. So, the young man wearing the full sleeve gown could not sleep well and he was tired from the long and short trips for shopping and the funeral time. "Mom, no visitors. Now, good." The boy envied his father and slept. It was his mother who stayed up late and knitting the young man's new green velvet color sweater or for woman unknown. But she did not decided for both. His mother was wise and she wanted not to stay up for reading the old book or collect the metal pins in the cylinder cans. Lately, the father came home after loading up and removing some of the heaviest wooden material from the grandfather's old shop. There were some chemicals useful for cleaning the rooms. The mother brought in for the show off to the sleeping boy's room and left the can as the gesture of self cleaning of the room. Then, she suggested to check the letter she put between the ink bottle and the new cleaning bottle. "It's a letter from the woman wearing the red dress. Good luck and sleep well." The woman wanted to kiss the boy's cheek or the forehead but it was the light door latch that made the kissing noise only. The boy slept and he imagined a girl wearing the red dress to be seeing him from a high ceiling tower like bricked building tall window looking down him by exposing her upper torso from the window frame. She was smiling. "Let's meet together." The letter said. She... He imagined in his death bed. It was the scolded girl.. gone. The image stretched and morphed onto his nephew who made the dance around him till the funeral's end. He wanted complaining but she was too young as the age of eight. There was this dark room and the covering of the dark night that filled his dreams. "Sleep well..." His voice morphed in his blanket to speak back to his mother.
Next day.
The boy wanted to have the breakfast next morning but he died. It was her death he imagined and he instead feeling dead in his bed. What if he was on the death bed. Will she cure me? the woman walking on the gallery was the shadow of her voice. "Don't go out so often." The woman was walking outside of the street from his building across the street while he observed her young lady figure passing from the window of his bedroom and later he hid his body under the window as if he felt the shame of spying on her or feeling watched. The little mother showed up with the picnic lunch basket for the breakfast. There are apples and sandwiches inside. "Feeling OK?" The little mother asked. "Good morning, mother." "Um, yum, good." The man ate some pies in the basket and moaned. "Still deciding which to take out?" The girl nagged after giving a glance to the letter from the old family member. "Well, soon... mother." "Now, good." The poet died.
The man wanted to hear us was the man worked as the fire fighter and later a fruit bender. And later, he
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