He is so heavy when he whispers
Do you start feeling, ever?
If you press your ear to the wrist of the world you can hear every heartbeat from the beginning of time
The Colour Of His Voice
She is that most perfect art
Let the earth hear his voice
We met at quarter past young; still, we grew up together
Left with his secrets, his picture and silence
Why American women shave their legs
Alternate Eroticism: What if?
I love the smell of Yum Cha in the morning (Spring 01 Sydney noder meet) Malarkey? or Effective Way?
I would like to step out of my heart and go walking beneath the enormous sky
Do not use the toaster: It will catch on fire
the streets are distorted and strange
Everything is relative
highway rest stops
four mark word game
I am writing you at dawn, on a train headed west, a farewell letter to be mailed at the first transfer station, before I head off into parts unknown.
fear knows no names
When Chopin finished a piece he stopped writing it
Why I gave up on anarchy
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