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Analysis and interpretation of The Whaler I used to worship him. I used to look at him, with adoring eyes. And in the summertime, I was gazing through the window at him, working outside in the garden. I knew all of his adventures by heart. If anyone named a country, I could retell a lot of great victories and sad memories, from a far away place he had been. The name of my illusion was Eric. Eric was an old friend of my dad and they used to travel around in Europe, earning just enough money to live on the
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