Salad Flies
Mark and I rode our bikes to dark tennis courts last night and watched the lunar eclipse. The moon got red.
My brain. I spent yesterday afternoon and most of this morning editing a very long manuscript written by French people who are fond of abbreviations: UAC, ERV, a.u.c., ASDA, AASM, IFL, AHI, HRI, OSAS, NEP. This means that I read many pages in abbreviated code that did not center in any consistent grammar. Three run-throughs and I’m still not sure I caught all the flies. Blurry eyes.
Did you hear about the real-live hobbits that might change everything we’ve come to know about the history of life on Earth?
Why would the maker put slimy, translucent lettuce in my salad? What motive, what vile heart?
My brain. I spent yesterday afternoon and most of this morning editing a very long manuscript written by French people who are fond of abbreviations: UAC, ERV, a.u.c., ASDA, AASM, IFL, AHI, HRI, OSAS, NEP. This means that I read many pages in abbreviated code that did not center in any consistent grammar. Three run-throughs and I’m still not sure I caught all the flies. Blurry eyes.
Did you hear about the real-live hobbits that might change everything we’ve come to know about the history of life on Earth?
Why would the maker put slimy, translucent lettuce in my salad? What motive, what vile heart?
1 Comments:
like salad in the wind
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