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Now he is tearing up books in a wholly blind rage he is tearing out one puppet’s strings.
And now too they are dancing some coy little mamba, she with her torn dress and
Now she is gone.  What is left is the ground, a ream of torn paper,
The sound of the rain on the ground and the audience, clapping?
O, cue the books and his furnace.

41 wooster street, 2nd floor

the train leaves

with us

Soon I will start flying around Times Square

I just happened to be walking down the street looking for cheap pizza

this is an expensive suit… and I’m worried about it

is it worth it if you only get hurt