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The secret I felt thrust upon me is nothing I wish to claim; a syllable it was that earned me this room and in itself the syllable was true. From my small town near Pisa where bread was scarce I’ve journeyed here to a room of my own, Read the rest of this entry »
The light is good in Interrogation A. Not so bright I can’t think. And it doesn’t buzz like those godawful fluorescents in B that made it so hard to remember the truth. I’ve been here since yesterday. They’re starting to like me. Read the rest of this entry »
Yes I want water, and a tongue I can arch to hurry the water down, and thumbs I can stick in my ears, and fingers I can wiggle to praise the almighty, Read the rest of this entry »