Instructions are errands in advanced circles, to tell or read it as fake v. the real fake sprawl with the naked around Marie Antoinette’s. They were textually modern, respectable Euro folk: They undressed for success

and survival. They avoided careers that were intellectually focused, peering
back and soaking up the city among savages of their own designs.
I’m my own boss.

The flamenco troupe darts of light & sweet algorithms in chunks.

(The subtracted j-walkers return with renditions from a counterculture.)

I’m thinking of giving head, until my spinal column heats up, thinking of you.