It develops in fits and starts,
more like a line of poorly manufactured clothing.


1. Our preindustrial homes

Our Cephalopod masters would always leave us strange messages written in sub-aquatic haiku.

So certain ways of  ignoring  the hypnotic skin poetics were devised, then again  circumvented  by these large watery eyed creatures. Some despised them, I found that a certain amount of  indifference  to them showed to be the best immunity. set your sights toward the airlines, break the teeth of sheep, and close down all of the most recently opened shops within minutes going out of  business  that's what I loved to do.

  But with the perpetual going out of  business  the opera houses soon became  phalanges  for the hybrid youth of tomorrow. Our homes were built upon the sweat of our own brows, devoid of any modern industrial  conveniences. That's why we mostly stayed at the cheap motels by the freeway off ramps. The best by far, were the ones with the worst restaurants attached. 

Late in the evening we would break windows with stolen products from the sheds and outbuildings that the  tornadoes  had repositioned.

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