JOSH I was standing at the classily designed terrace of my penthouse, in my favorite designer robe, sipping on a glass of one of the most expensive wines in my collection and to have ever been produced, the 1992 Screaming Eagle Carbernet. Once that rich and velvety texture with notes of dark berries hit my tongue, I couldn't help but get mesmerized by the taste. I looked up at the bright morning sky, of which the sun basked me in its heat and its rays illuminated my skin gloriously. I also had a great view of the lively and splendorous New York. I looked down at the boisterous happenings below me. Vehicles zooming off, vendors out and proclaiming their products to prospective buyers, and officially dressed folks marching off to their places of work, hoping to arrive on time. I smiled at the state of the average man, whereas people like us couldn't be caught dead involving in the eager hustle and bustle of the intermediate class or the working class. "Ah, te voilà" (Oh, there yo
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