Green, green grove, full of whisltling black men with bright-white eyes. They go dancing about with their sandwiches and blueprints, yeilding properly to traffic but never a pedestrian on foot. 'On foot' sounds so slow, doesn't it? It makes me think of when I have those dreams where I'm trying to run, but I'm not getting anywhere. THAT'S what bastard ON FOOT is all about, my young pupils. In other news, Heil Hitler, but not really.
Oooooo Wawa Sizzlie!
10:51 p.m.//03.24.05
Mood: Thirsty
[previous]������[forward]