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I turn and toss, no reason nor rhymes. This ain’t home, but then, I’ve dozed in buses. Colors, rhythms, patterns and smells, warp in and out of sense. Trippy, strippy – this is all at once. Oh, am I that girl with golden locks? Or the princess who felt a pea, twenty mattresses across? * […]


“A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, there lived a species which fought against the digital age. They used their digits dexterously to hold an implement that marked thin, flat surfaces – to put their thoughts down or to make images or to humor their imagination,” said my grandchildren to their grandchildren. […]