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A thousand times the mysteries unfold like galaxies in my head.

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As a very determined video game player  I have many times wondered if I’m not crossing the border between real and unreal too often at some point. What I mean is, am I trying to compensate for a sort of insufficient reality? Am I better off as a very voluptuous Lara Croft, or as a sensual assassin wreaking havoc in the Italian countryside? Or as an evil mastermind building cities and rushing against my opponent? Are video games my drugs? Giving me a sense I sometimes miss in my own life?