It was a nice switch on the synagogue-swastika-painting bits the papers have been carrying. The table and benches, all onepiece, like a picnic table, were bolted to the floor. Remembering how you had to sit in your neighbor’s lap, the theatre was so small. A tall, straight, featureless pillar of shining black metal.
He pulled my arms from around him, and he folded my hands in my lap, and he stood up, and Ilooked at him. “Did you have a nice time?” He thought of the boxes-within-boxes. clouds, and we will be seeing THROUGH FLINT’S EYES as everything comes from murky and out- of-focus to FOCUS. ” “It wasn’t important for him to say it; but it was for you to hear it.
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