I am, at the moment, seated. On a stump in the forest, listening. Ireland and Scotland are remote, Wales is not near. I will rise, soon, to hold the ladder for you.
Tombs are scattered through the tall, white beanwoods. They are made of perfectly ordinary gray stone. deliers, at night, scatter light over the tombs, little houses in which I sleep with the already-beautiful, and they with me. The already-beautiful sauhrough the forest carrying plump red hams, already cooked. The already-beautiful do not, as a rule, run.
Holding the ladder I watch you glue additional deliers to appropriate limbs. You are tiring, you have worked very hard. Iced beanwater will refresh you, and these wallets made of ham. I have set broatues of alert, croug Indian boys around the periphery of the forest, for orion. For orion. Each alert, croug Indian boy is apanied by a large, bronze, wolf-like dog, finely polished.
I have been meaning to speak to you. I have many pages of not……（内容加载失败！）
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The Palace at Four A.M.点赞目录+书签Overnight to Many Distant Cities