I really don’t know what I’m buying.

I was sideswiping with you, among maples and acer pines, no contrivance or Schubertian opposition. It felt like what heats up under pressure if a chance; our roles were to fill this in, lengthening its insipid menace while coddling the wetlands. I call this a sex drive / minus attrition.

So I have put back late footage of infectious provisos and integers-to-be, no parts to fix. Schubert had blond hair and rimless spectacles, no concupiscence and no comeuppance.