Maybe this was the way it had always happened, with no fate ever involved; you simply fell in with the people around you, and no matter what else happened in history or the great world, for the individual it was always a matter of local acquaintances-the village, the platoon, the work unit, the monastery or madressa, the zawiyya or farm or apartment block, or ship, or neighborhood-these formed the true circumference of one's world, some twenty or so speaking parts, as if they were in a play together.
( Kim Stanley Robinson )
[ The Years of Rice and Salt ]
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