dale frank.

no matter how little he ate he always remained persistently bloated.

envy, envy, she was saying seemingly to herself, as she entered from out of the darkness

of the adjoining room carrying unopened plastic wine glasses. he took a few steps

towards the bowl where the carton usually lay momentarily forgetting he had decided

to give them up two days earlier.

creativity lay in the bowels while the bowels lie to the eye like the bow of a super tanker.

she had a majolica personality. and it would probably

need some restoration in the years to come.

here.