Saturday, May 27, 2006

under stratus

While you painted bookshelves, the windows sent in white.

I went to get some cash, and then went round the shelves, the place was teeming, I queued, then I stood in another queue to get a lottery ticket, then we queued for petrol on the sliproad, then I queued to pay. Need more cash soon, I thought.

Chains lay still and folded on the earth, except you hung them up to take a look and then binned them and took the bins along to the bigger bins.

a jazz-junk scorcher, wrestling diva, after-shave

We think there are more bills to pay, but we don't pay them. We don't write it down, but it's An International Style.

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