A Dream of Rain in Kentucky

Thus. The twenty sentences at last understood as a helpful exercise in the application of pronouns. I learn. You see. One does.

Or so he wrote. It was a polysyllabic enterprise before anybody else showed up with big ideas. A tree cannot be anything but a tree and does so without effort. Are we still talking about writing? You tell me.

It is not related to photography but does have a thing for musicology. The notes follow one another, like hikers ascending an Austrian hill. All it takes for something interesting to happen is one slip. Or maybe a bus. A rude awakening?

Forsaken Ming vases in the hands of a sad nude. Thus Bambi, thus rambling, thus a dream of rain in Kentucky. The river you see only seems to flow, as the time you take only seems to pass. He wrote I love you. Me too.