Getting ready: the show girl scratches her breast and shakes out her feathers.
The sewing machine joins what the scissors have cut asunder, plus whatever else comes in its path.
Moralists love to discourse on the hollowness of success; about the hollowness of failure they are silent.
For some, bottles of liquor gleam like the towers of Eldorado.
Sloth, not ill-will, makes me unjust.
Something is sticking out its tongue at me from the corner of my mirror.