Tears make a conversation between those of us and those of us. There is a gap called life. You are the prime then the number expands to precincts, cities, exactitude of love. No words gulp and slop over the rails of reason, not this brightened day. Trail autumn while Chris has words. Words are our distance and close, both in the net and fret. So the few few few chords and that enjoyment. We meet in the strong and weak words, chords, I love you. Love you love you, many times the instant.
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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