Millie Beggs, By The Time

I Don’t Suppose I Really Know You Very Well - But I Know You Smell Like The Delicious Damp Grass That Grows Near Old Walls And That Your Hands Are Beautiful Opening Out Of Your Sleeves And That The Back Of Your Head Is A Mossy Sheltered Cave When There Is Trouble In The Wind And That My Cheek Just Fits The Depression In Your Shoulder.

Something In Me Vibrates To A Dusky, Dreamy Smell Of Dying Moons And Shadows.

Mr. Fitzgerald-i Believe That Is How He Spells His Name-seems To Believe That Plagiarism Begins At Home.

Scott-there's Nothing In The World I Want But You-and Your Precious Love. All The Material Things Are Nothing. I'd Just Hate To Live In A Sordid, Colorless Existence-because You'd Soon Love Less-and Less-and I'd Do Anything-anything-to Keep Your Heart For My Own-i Don't Want To Live-i Want To Love First And Live Incidentally.

Look Closer And You'll See Something Extraordinary, Mystifying, Something Real And True. We Have Never Been What We Seemed.