Saturday, May 08, 2004

40% is even enough. stats fall in place, a loop around some miracle sun. when added to the clearing, all that tramping sound goes from forest to the cottage to the edge of something else. there were tortures on the eve, and broken spent could be a theory, but now the stats stay flat before us. the aliens invented time, and the measure thereof. when we learned to learn, we had could a been a much. 40% which is like, and we hadn't begun to talk. 40% like a death rate, tax rate, something peculiar in the numbers. hopeful practice gives a circus colour, call out to your friends. in 40% and read it, weeping too when thru the magazine. the aliens tell the sentries everything, these days.

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