Well and well and well it's coming.
Monobrain did this hewn... a good man and pal, can't wait to hit the grate and go for the pummel trash-and-transit once again. Scallops on the legs, spoons clattering on the thighs (a happy dump pry), men-sake/fish-toil, ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra... and you get the point. Mucha stare and sar-chasm amid the dapple of longing and held-in/breath... smirk and sink and still going. Hope you're there. It's all a search for the same, I guess. But each time, I'll be gall-danged if it doesn't alter the perception just a teeny tiny bit. She do get pixelated, which is a good word for scrunching up yr eyes til the red circles come out from the corners. Man, that caps it.