good evening, all disposed of

which could exact a revenge when it’s true that they say the only one served is a dish whose steem drifts up the flue, attracting mice. and what if your retort is the sort which demands an unbridaled version of hands holding hands.

i am a closet full of debris. you are a canyon where waters run freely. and so if you catch a ray on the lawn be sure of the nightinggale…she knows how it’s done.

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