our paths merge. we are rescued. still we're sad. in the vista free library i found are you my mother? and the sense of an ending. nothing is really random though it seems human activity has become mass psychosis. still creatures will seek the light of good sense.

my second angel with grass wings. it's kind of interesting that mister always goes from the tail to the head and then looks around like maybe he'll see the angel hovering near.

angelick.

apple of grace.

idle know what mister thinks of grace. he doesn't woof. he's kind of aloof. 

i love grace though. maybe he's a little jealous of grace. idle know. maybe he just wants to move on to his ownly apple and let grace wiggle on her way.

who can tell me if this anomie is planetary or just business as usual versus just me. i knew i would always be bad at sports and business and i would just turn into a particulate ghost in the face of war. but i wound up in obombaland in trumpworld. i know there are many more like me, but it feels like we're all alone. a no me.

 this is the sad wash-up room. when you leave here you feel happy(er).

why do i come to these rooms where i have no business and nothing to do. because i have no business in these rooms, and nothing to do. they accomodate me.