Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have

spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!

A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *

There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way

So these are the hills of home. H… nearly subliminal. To see them is… double, hear bad puns delivered wi… An untoward familiarity. Rising from my sleep, the road is…

Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as

We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the

Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.

With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—

It’s as if we’ve just been turned… in order to learn that the beetle we’ve caught and are now devouring is our elder brother

If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response

A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far