Table of Contents | 28 October 2002
I have to step over seven-inch tall couples having sex on my bathroom floor to brush my teeth, and the mouthwash is filled with blinking floating eyeballs. The eyeballs are mine, but I think the copulating couples have meandered in from the neighbors.
Finding an extrasolar planet is a staggeringly difficult task.
If I stare long enough into the polished black obsidian mirror, / they will come to me / the angels or demons.
In Strad's world, hitting accidental wrong notes makes a performer suspect and any hint of improvisation leads to disciplinary hearings and even possible expulsion from the Conservatory.
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