karenc
the virtuosity of being near totally obliterates anything else. Its the climb, its the value, its the past, its the present. Its all that, that makes live what it is today. Just. Being. Near.
She walked into the parlor with a swagger in her step, you see M'am she said it wasn't the me, the ever so lowly maid that killed him, it was you, when your 'other' self came out to play.
High strung! that's what the fellow in the mellow yellow told me. Take the li' pill and run down the rabbit hole. Maybe THAT will clear up the clouds in your head. Hah! took it! and now there's a lil' peach tree of high strung baby peaches just waiting to be born... all damn fifty of em. ohhhhh!