E 'morning. Almost soon. Here, in short, not 'and that' the dawn, but the sun is not 'still at the zenith.
I found the smashed clock on the nightstand. I wonder why? Must have been that awkward movement of the arm. I have a vague memory of what happened. Just remember that all of a sudden a noise is intrusive and 'put to tease the ear drum and a thud and then ... the darkness ... ... and that Freud was smoking a Cuban. That's it. Then I woke up with the vitality of a sloth that has' got high.
While floating in a parallel time, I open the windows and I'm a guy wearing the mask of Jason that he paints on the fire escape railing. Nods of reassurance and then takes off his disguise: the head and 'a shapeless mass covered with a round ball of stuffing corvina from which peep two eyes like two slits, intense expression of an ox with Alzheimer's. In the center, beneath the deep-set eyes, a flat nose and comedones reminiscent of a pug, a virtually be horrendous.
greets me. He smiles and I think, but it should be, put the mask should be! This and 'insensitivity against the beautiful and good taste.
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