The unsung hero, the lesson, the hotel
You are just a figment, just the ideal
The moderator of my worldly perfection
The land that loaned me home for a while.
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See All1. Dreams deep enough have an infinite echo, as if the time within them borrows from other lives, or that the forgotten worlds between one's waking hours cumulate like layers of sand beaten by the wav
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I am with her and beside her and away from myself. Like Victoria Beach sand, the diner is loosely packed. Through the glass, I see myself, still barely more than a teen. We dine quietly. She smiles an
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A winter highway in Saskatchewan (like some scene out of Fargo) A car in the ditch He opens the trunk and sees himself dead A questionably conventional biographical sketch might read as follows. Bryan
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