annabloom is alive, a spraying reads. hardly a mural, says sponge, but it is new. when did that happen. blink to breadroll, a breezelong missing block of wood. every now and then.
breadroll. walks. says nothing. the display is blank. apolises for inconvenience. shortly. wind. who is annabloom. a new mural, tiny.
to tell a joke in the way of train people:
t’pit and supplistrong caused their holy of thould of stong an ove t’yourn and then ream, thou haph, and arsht?
inass indeed, answeet heave clourned him. and the orf said, all on cubime: and arose me flees. no-ah; and with wet, too.
the Book of Sponge and Others.
annabloom.
stuff about train people
- 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

3 December, 2007




