My economic disposition happens to be part and parcel of post-Freudian alienation. In other words, my life narrative claims a democratic resistance to values of constructed situations.
I thought she had to. She’d been told many times. And there were some amusing facts about her in pajamas. In the snack bar we were both wearing pajamas, sitting around a table playing pontoon. I felt like smoking a cigarette and laying down the law.
Her responses rose and fell. The parakeet flew from room to room. Trees across the street seemed bent by 80 degrees. I listened to her bully beef and dry biscuit reasoning from 12:00 to 2:00. As usual, an afternoon spent alone reading under a cypress tree on Mount Paladermo would have been highly preferable.
running the whole length of the horizon...