A Trial Is Two Narratives

You Bring Your Own Weather To The Picnic.

I Like To See The Difference Between Good And Evil As Kind Of Like The Foul Line At A Baseball Game. It's Very Thin, It's Made Of Something Very Flimsy Like Lime, And If You Cross It, It Really Starts To Blur Where Fair Becomes Foul And Foul Becomes Fair.

This Was A Place Where Tattoos Outnumbered Teeth.

A Dancer On Break Approached Him. She Smiled. Each Tooth Was Angled In A Different Direction, As If Her Mouth Were The Masterwork Of A Mad Orthodontist. "hi," She Said. "hi." "you're Really Cute." "i Don't Have Any Money." She Spun And Walked Away. Ah, Romance.

You Don't Worry About Happiness And Fulfilment When You're Starving.