An ongoing work of fiction that sets out in a rambling, ad hoc sort of manner to mull over a variety of loosely philosophical, poetical, and literary ideas all with a connection, however tenuous, to Epicureanism. The poet Lucretius is our sort-of protagonist, though as nothing much actually happens and he doesn’t do anything worth speaking of all afternoon other than digest, daydream and doze, he can’t really be much of a hero. That is, if you don’t rate post-prandial digestive daydreaming too highly. And what is a hero anyway?
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