Where was I? In some conversation with a dark road. Someday I'll learn to type on the rollercoaster. At least my initials or an ad. What would I display in a gallery I could never reach? Some honest avoidance for some other attempt to get into the opening, where I would mingle and look at all the great works passing by in the flicker of a blur. Too much time for the clouds? When will it rain on the avalanche? This spring and on every other hill we used to get the wind lost after our bones were carried by the sled. Winter is past, of course, except for why I was cold, hot, and wet in my snow suit, a generic one, because they all are eventually when they where outgrown after a season or two.
You know me so well, and I know you wish I could dig you out of the slush. I won't tell them which forest you are actually protecting or breathing from because my guitar doesn't need a new sibling at the moment, or a tonsil. And the new book is this one, somehow worked on for the word medicine, cuisine, and 100 hundred other material objects or less I truly need. Might as well have quality instead of something that lasts 24 hours, and then we understand each other to well to immaculate the television we are obviously being called to because it is the reason we are collected for anyway. The electrons are AC. I continued on with DC. Should I donate to the Smithsonian someday, or should I just let someone else worry about it?
You were from the rectangle, the display I subscribed to and you were illuminated and broadcast into the air for a few minutes and then gone to look at me from some other side of the world. Your name is obvious to me, descended from Greek, or Latin, or some place across the Mediterranean in Africanus. That's what I believe anyway because I absorb a great many influences from the flat prairie that is a young city where the atmosphere occasionally twists. They sell me the electronics, and I find something interesting. I could get a tattoo at any job site of your name before some other fool does. Will Belle ever cause one. Too many I am sure.
Belle and I are thinking of getting a kitten. Allergy Cat obviously. What else would we do here other than make a new history. What will I teach her, definitely not how to spell, or cook, or rule the forest with the other techniques. We are visiting "Grandma Superior". She will be taught a few of these things on her own like how to trip over the roots. Watch out for some of the animals, even the cute ones enjoy some seeds and get close. The itch weed and the ones that are occasionally in season and keep you slightly alive till you find the next epic OU epiceries ou trading post. Ahem, grocery store, the greatest art galleries are "epiceries."
Quebec potentially? Montreal? be friends. Elle est faim, daccord. Belle est Aussie. Aujourdui et LA evaporation en le imagination a demain.
Thankfully the Polar bears are aware. Tracking? Next year we might play in the snow. Tracking? Cette nouvelle, pourqoui?
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