Wherein no one spoke regular but called out Hymnal
Catastrophes and I fell down tremendously like Satan
Probably. It was thunder all round my head, I said.
It was the cause of this drastic muttish servitude, yes.
Wildcats in glaciers. Vestigal migratory dramas.
Calling from far-off irrigations and bits of landscape.
I mean I feel pretty good despite well yesterday. And all.