When it doesn’t matter to you, that’s where I’ll find the most matter. The pile of trash builds up just as fast as I can write my love letters.

“I feel like something warm. Apple pie, with two slices of bread and roast beef,…”

“He was cold and ugly, so I lent him my invisible cloak. He was grateful and sai…”

“It’s not true that selling stolen goods has no overhead. Prison’s got a ceiling.”

“Do they make chin straps with knives attached? If they do, I need one. You can …”