The page that follows says goodbye the way houses, collectable nick-nacks are a kind of grief, and kind communications lie the other side of to Be . The mynah bird combs illusion to naturalise the experience, as a physician condemned to another era defining the light to Be. Your body falls away from mine and the city is dead the way we're back in 10 minutes but never are. The future includes every nostalgia, the sunsets, the air chills, the birdies' summer song from the mountains.
Nature is the free market.
Each one will find a home among the buried inventories, and the spectrum disintegrate with a few possessions in imitation swallowed down the pit below. The native speaker visits a strange land. Remember your way back past the Minotaur, the bright spark, the midnight roar, the same way house-keys add up to a wild card. These are the signs, they have their rules to see and never never the sweet sweet expire near anonymous. We have committed the heresy of love to find a space for tenderness, harboured in the throat what love should be, finished off complete at the door of memory.