It's silently slipping, that nonsensical something of ephemeral beauty and fear. Slipping down a drain made of rusted iron irate its life lost leaking dripping down through the ceiling below to an equally empty apartment. Rent reaffirms nature: natural selection pits stayers and goers, hold downers and throwers to the wind of perceived wrongs and rights preached from the pulpits of television and masters of media. Yet the master media is not merely alive but live, three feet in front two steps back and willing to slap you silly if you step out of line.
A Place of Stuff and Blogs and Musings and ,,,
I am the person who writes in the blog space to the left. I guess I do all the place of stuff stuff...