thankfully, they did not ask why i wanted that particular small victorian garden house.
i was protecting mysight with peach colored parasols, in avoidance of extended rods and cones pushing my eyes from behind
tiny aerobic drill sargeants.
but good, the man did not show an urgency 2 unlock any secret no intervention was disthrilling in a way to spin the fringe within distilling shards of shade - perhaps it distracted me from no voice but a startling willingness to smile and just give me whatever i want so graciously.
(he simply snaps his fingers and tossles his tassles and its done somehow remotely gliding a gilded weave thru burlap and shrouds an exaggerated like jack n. as ' the Joker ' smile in some clownish bent stones logo. compared to mick jagger his eyes were different, he had eyes of a hawk.
later twas sparkle to realize that i was watching with sly fox eyes the whole time, but i said, peach and cream overwhelming cast a net of cloud filaments and i never think of myself when that happens never have room to consider what exactly it is that i am 'doing' how can i know? u r living in a cream bath flowered filigree, there's not a lot of good ways to explain what happens with time
a few days later it arrived pink and white and finely architectured to resemble a frisco thirteen million coastal. i'd specified electricity in a dedicated line so these two dark blue tshirt guys with weighted toolbelts were puttering around and climbing ladders to the roof. they did not engage in any way, simply looked at the work they were doing and that impressed me as the dalai lama would. but then, perhaps it is simply lamebrained to keep doing what u r doing when u know what u r doing and do it so well u r a finetuned compass.
the zen master laughs in my memory sitting behind the desk, and applies so just so squiggly fingers to his head and shouts "cu-cu-Cooo! cu-Cooo! " it seems a pleasant beginning
