Yes, I'm still here. My block broke off Brooklyn and fell into the ocean so we have been sailing for months in the squall so that is why I've seemed so quiet.
Or some other unzipping. I unpack and redo the picking.
This is just an octavian post card (little august). Giving myself again good counsel. Cultivate your garden ardently. Hard love any respite in the fruiting yard. White eggplant is the name of a seed, the plant dreams purple flowers and out bloop eggs.
The pepper grow green then pipe up red. Here all the absurd fruits huddle up against the august sun.
Went to Vegas. Went to camp. Back in Brooklyn. Sent articles in, sent in some chapters.