mister lost his yellow beads. the sea claims them. 

i know i don't know her, but i read margaret's notes on plato's cave, and i felt her hand and mind pass through mine. and i sweetened my lemonade with her agave nectar. life goes on.
 

matter, what? it doesn't matter because everything
is the matter. any way i saged the place and while i didn't clean everything
shines anew.
 

 this is the last picture of copp's yellow beads.
 

 the dogs were super cute today, and the waves were super fun,
and dark matter hovered all round, glinting with spectral light.