Moby dick stage 3 B1

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Call me Ishmael. Some years ago I set out to sea, having little money and nothing particularly interesting to do on shore. I thought I would sail around the world. Whenever I feel like a cold, wet November morning, and I start following funerals, then I know it's time to go back to the wide open sea. It always makes me feel better because the sea is magic- it has always been magic. It is an endless source of life and mystery.

When I go to sea I always go as a simple sailor and never as a passenger. Why should I pay when I can get paid for my work? I certainly don't mind taking orders from an old sea captain. And if I have to clean the decks, or mend a sail, so what? It's good, honest work and I don't mind it.

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