Now that she is halfway here, the distance decreases and, the giant saucer of the horizon doesn’t reach in, but flips itself knowingly.
The last sounds drifting in the cold porridge of passersby, some of whom recalled a morning in developer’s fluid how sheathes of bark fell on the fence,
in the sleuth of your back these separate rooms as breathing needs sleep not to tell the children of this old ruin you and me
He has only a fifty, offers to buy a coffee to break it for the cash register. Damian takes the coffee, gives Bryce his change. The U2 video is playing over and over again. A fire inspector walks in, wanting the key for the side lane to check the hose closet.