There are places, and then there are places. Here are some places. They are wet and meet. They while away when we meet. Not a whit.

Sunday is leaning Saturday, and Saturday to Sunday eve. A men, a then, a trén, a spend, a fen, a bend. If you meant Queensbury Street, just say so. It's all east-by-northeast from here.

I'll tell you what the problem is, what the right way out of here is. It begins with the prism. See how he is? The prism wears beneath the sunshaft, it wears and wears until it's finally paid off. what's left is a breaker space, a palliative, a clerestory. A place where eyes feel cold. And the world is just the yellow side of halogen. This side.

Panorama Salamander, skeeting the world over, coursing through contempt. O Salamander, make a Warhol, Salamander, freight a brick. Turn soft soap to salt ache, beeswax to bitumen. Be Brave.

Be brave be brave be brave be brave be brave and I won't die.