Read it, pain is a momentary agreement of feeling within time as a marvel. Intersecting lines meet without volition, smack that second. Whitehead wrote something in a clearing, illustrating something and a clearing. We went along, together, brillianting and set. Love wholly covers while owing nothing. Hearing a set tune, a folk astonishment, a meeting place, something written in a reach. The time now is just the time now, here so we can at this morning now, once more.
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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