Nothing is new under the sun. These particles hum inexhaustibly along with our harpist playing in the empyrean: infinite variations on the themes of absurd.
1.4.2
“All good? I’m out for lunch,” he asked around the corner in between checkouts, averting his eyes when she glanced back, intoxicating.
Feeling friends
sail the streets of St. Petersburg and London, a fox terrier too. A fog settled in over the center while I was there, the clouds following a procession of dignitaries. The spectacle moved along, approaching entertainment. It was slightly less masturbatory once the hammy boy exposed himself. Strange how that works. New look, same ocular
1.4.1
At lunchtime, Addy swiped out and after running his fingers over his bumpy forehead he rummaged through Penny’s kitschy Gucci clutch, Chinese-made.
to where i’ve never returned from, to say nothing of the time of day
There is a specter haunting us, the specter of the earth. When the barycenter was lurching in favor of the burgeoning interspace, the gravity shift was incremental enough it slid under the radar. Few contracted space sickness initially. I was younger, coming up regularly looking for less threatening romantic encounters in the newsstands, eventually sneaking
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1.3.8
Grey sweats and a wrinkled button-down lay across the foot of the bed, the way Addy creates an extra stop before the hamper, and so her mind went to wherever he was, naked and still looking to lose her chains.
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Midway in the course of life I came to myself in a dark waste field, on the outer edges of the interspace, for I had lost the way back home. The jungle of debris persecuted without target, desolate, harsh, and unforgiving. The recollection alone moves me back to the site of fear itself. The waste
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