If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.
The end is in the beginning and yet you go on.
We lose our hair, our teeth! Our bloom, our ideals.
The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.
I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving. But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side to side.
My work is a matter of fundamental sounds (no joke intended) made as fully as possible, and I accept responsibility for nothing else. If people want to have headaches among the overtones, let them. And provide their own aspirin.