i can see we faint, said sponge, like all of us and all around us. wise words. great chords for exit.
there we go again, said breadroll, i was supposed to say that. things i was supposed to i may never say or never again. imagine.
you haven’t said that, said sponge. have you.
i don’t know, said breadroll. and who knows? it is too much of a muchness. we may as well end something somewhere somehow.
the Book of Sponge and Others.
annabloom.
a mount of things amounts to much
- kindness of strangers
- some lives are worse than others but the stories are all the same
- anything is good for something in the end
- we don’t like days and are at odds with nights
- inflate or deflate or put on another show
- egg and a query
- come to mention it a melody sounds like the other
- a legend is born
- somewhere would be something else now
- the trail of art

31 December, 2004




