Like a flower I’ll look to the sun. I’ll try to run faster across the street without looking for traffic and not paying any attention to the woman to the left that has higher tits than mine. I hear she pretends to read and write as she gets her degree in fucking. Sexual psychology…much easier than philosophy..run…close your eyes and run faster than you ever have before. You see her cry and I’m sure there is a country song about her.
"On a parti, six ans de mer. Sans pouvoir border la terre. Au bout de la septieme annee. On a manque de provisions."
This life is boring. Home no more home to me, whither must I wander? Cold blows the coming winter wind over the hill and hither.
"Teresa, are you thinking again?" ...
"Shut up, I'm running."
Teresa.
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