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Kneebone in a conciliatory tone. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. ‘But this is not to my blame, grandpére. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. This fall saved him, for the horsemen passed over him.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 24-09-2024 19:58:10