John Locke, himself, was an intricate plot schemed up by name on request. Motivated slush booms notions of government and people are crying. Crying because the earth cracks and we can only stand. Crying on top of crying because thinking is a presence. Crying on Wednesday, which always always follows Tuesday. John Locke was a delible upbeat, you were waiting. We send people elsewhere then look again, there was something. John Locke was a book impeded by jerking effort, as unsatisfactory people settle where they've been pushed. Excellence is exhausting, not contagious. This has been the preface of the World.
Walking is not walking if Gertrude chooses not to walk. The premise: Gertrude Stein is not walking. She may be on a boat, not walking, crossing the wide ocean sea. Leaving inevitable France but not walking. Dramatic but not walking. Sentenced but not walking. There were days of walking but not this day. Reading or just looking but not walking.There were sentences full of walking but not walking. Talking maybe but not walking in or out. A time lived and walking was done then if not now. It was a doing and it was a done. Not forgetting Alice who may have had walking done or even doing. The annals say Leo Stein walked along, up to and including the degree of not walking, along. Those flower names walked along, Matisse, Picasso, Laurencin, in varieties. An adding war or two closed or opened anything jump. Apollinaire in the historical. Languages of shapes and sizes bounding for just the time and a little beyond. And that was the how sentence. In that time but also forward until readi...
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