#88

7th to South to 10th to Pine. To 12th to Walnut. And over the bridge. Thick white fog that muffles.

Malice aforethought again. The masterwork, the masterpiece, the Magister that flirts (cf. Nanette Endel). My right hand ringed but limp in bed. The hand with which I write. St=Art1/Sq=Art2. Naked under blankets. The two positions poised in words (and flesh makes one). By which I mean (and the afternoon confirms)... Welcome to the novel! When you visit, look for your image in the art above Square's bed.