Each of us is all the sums he has not counted: subtract us into nakedness and night again, and you shall see begin in Crete four thousand years ago the love that ended yesterday in Texas.
The seed of our destruction will blossom in the desert, the alexin of our cure grows by a mountain rock, and our lives are haunted by a Georgia slattern, because a London cutpurse went unhung. Each moment is the fruit of forty thousand years. The minute-winning days, like flies, buzz home to death, and every moment is a window on all time.
john northbrooke, c. 1570
1 comment:
Hey jojo.
I had a blast in Old San Juan. Just a really amazing place. Yummy food and talk about a good Mojito. WTF!
I think maybe the plastic plant people may just be "foreign" or something like that. Maybe they are from Asia somewhere. Sometimes non-natives look at plastic plants as just something to put out there. They don't think about it too much. It may not be a matter of taste like it is for you...but then again, it could very well be tasteless breeders.
And I guess I should stop worrying about a Dexter Dive; he looks totally safe out there now.
B.
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