Text #3621149

What really counted was the possibility of escape, a leap of freedom, out of the implacable ritual, a wild run for it that would give whatever chance for hope there was. Of course, hope meant being cut down on some street corner, as you ran like mad, by a random bullet. But when I really thought it through, nothing was going to allow me such a luxury. Everything was against it; I would just be caught up in the machinery again.

—from The Stranger, a book by Albert Camus

Active since February 4, 2018.
430 total characters in this text.

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Universes

Universe Races Average WPM First Race
Default (English) 10,881 90.97 January 13, 2017
Long Texts 88 91.71 January 4, 2017
Instant Death Mode 8 102.16 February 4, 2018
ᗜ Stenography 3 90.11 April 10, 2022
All TypeRacer Texts 0 0.00 January 1, 1970