so we are, entrenched, said sponge, he was, of course exaggerating. so there they sat, sat at least, not idly loiterish standing like the rest of all.
they spent time sitting, mostly, holding on to their seats, making sure stuff that may not have been sure before or may have become uncertain; inconsistent results. wet conditions. not set to improve.
the Book of Sponge and Others.
annabloom.
day to so remember
- 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

12 November, 2007




