In a strange city, I connect through food and fantasy.
Oblivion waits without beckoning or threatening.
The realist lies for advantage. The fantasist lies to give his dreams a flavor of reality.
Home again, I can groan, scratch, and talk to myself.
A beautiful woman peers out her window, as full of envy as the harridan who peers up at her from the street.
English has borrowed from everywhere and now goes everywhere.