for delude oneself must knot do

Mona never transferred a thin gin her life, the undone hills and mating game were not for her. knot for her tiding navel cord to bind unind and bond. was she seeing things in the dark, or wasting away the channels of desire along the serendipity of her becomings? coitus interruptus?or no coitus at all. the galas the gals the glass saw darklya letter to permutate your skin, her perfume, the death of songers and writers.

For we must not delude ourselves: Freud doesn’t like schizophrenics. He doesn’t like their resistance to being oedipalized, and tends to treat them more or less as animals. They mistake words for things, he says. They are apathetic, narcissisitic, cut off from reality, incapable of achieving transference; they resemble philosophers—‘an undesirable resemblance.’A-O, 23

Chalked wall of height white wall the taverna, Greece the four noble truths heralds to her shiel. Grimacing chide of the apes, he the ape of death, and the gorilla of leaf and hemp, over his heel swinging dream-flake off the black of the tenement or the librarian hover her cyrstal ball hanging the drapes, the wood. Play blindman 's bluff by the green cave moss. soft to mouth