67: Smarts don’t matter. You had a wealth of smarts. Advantage achieved?
I’m laying myself off. Shall I? (Not that I’m smart.) I’m imitating an exchequer, an evolutionist of avarice — loose ends everywhere giving wind an upright advantage and inflection point — long since moot — wherefore roses of shadow seem false, laced to society. For this is where wind and other loosenesses keep only youth on the gain side, impious beauty and true presence forward.

And that goes for the lively sun shining with its indirect blush-to-blood on the street, bankrupting grownups.