Committed to liberty nothing concentrates like consecutive sentences about our new visual plan and a promise of more. That’s if I’m hit by what I feel in the a.m. I believe you. Evening you’re different. 
You give me a musical temperature, abstract marvel gently assailed.  
Finish a stretch and the clouds get confused, straying.  
 
What are we fixing up? a few rounds of bluish vistas — soft whorls of a moon phase when women leave the lakefront.   
 
The lighting here is just off the boards, like when water lilies kick off their work boots and other women rule. Snipers crouch,   
 
the idea of Burberry’s.   
 
Tiny, simple iterations, the best phases to clobber you. False man.