Written, the sense of things is over wrought iron beams.
They say they're for support.
Story, the currency in question.
Shifting to a sense of things you have to let yourself intuit it.
Out of many things comes something you think you feel you understand.
And then the sun is warmer than you had remembered always.
Dreaming is a blessing that you needn't guaranty.
See what's on, but don't forget to keep your head down in reverence.
There are soft things even in the city.
There the chase is preordained.
Player in the garden is a contrast suitable, but also quite expected, usually.
There is a sound to it that also is important.
The other side is moving too.
Wave or point, a mystery of heavenly proportions.
Any indication is a welcome one.
A lot of it is driven by a sublimated worrier.
Bag full of interest – no, carry on – checked inside your head.
You never know the value of your privacy until you meet the risk of losing it.
The fortune smiling recipe is hidden in a special jar you put inside the night table on your side of the bed.
Nerves of steel, iron trap mind, golden heart.
In the midst of thinking clearly.
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