But that's where the resemblance ends--- and once you learn the value of gibberish and murmurs, it's not so bad to be the anything--- the harmonica is burning swans that waft up into my sages and something a braid can fix makes me very superstitious that they want it and they want it, as ostintato, as a lake close by, closer-- rumour that the trial was about folding us into lanterns and cranes, and into the refrain-- hold it together, hold it together
