What looks like a cloud to one person is a chance to sell umbrellas to the next.
Can I have my cake? Can I have you too? Would you follow me? Could I ask you to? Would the world between us break these ties we’ve worked so hard to realize? Can a postcard say what I see in your eyes?
...a rabbit gives up somewhere and a dozen hawks descend; every moment leads toward its own sad end
...Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map