Nobody's creekbed

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The Anterior Insula and Hwy W

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

he had in his hand what he knew to be a ‘calculator,’ but none of the symbols on the too-tiny buttons were intelligible. “now i’m in a fix.” the sums had to be figured, and soon, but he had no way of figuring. right then he gnashed the back of his tongue, fell down a flight of stairs. “if only i had a piano,” he thought. “or a giant clock face.”

her face had been born again, but not the rest of her. suddenly she felt so orphaned.

as far as he could tell Nobody Else Had It