Presiding over this precious-both-PRECISE mining of moment and memory he will excite himself to the bones
Of his ‘horses-for-courses’ being: he’s been acting a feather-weight version of his usuALLy wildly interpretABLE Self and it doesn’t feel… like… … ANYTHING, actually
they’ve scattered their thoughts about the place and flicked-to-tWiSt their writerly wrists … in all KinDs of constant and “catchphrase-be-caughten” directions
Her silence IS golden, “IF she thinks… for a mereEAGER Moment”
