Life has something lovely for us again.

KYLIE WOON

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In the dream I am flying, holding on to an old shoebox. Below me, the interstate is an ape with two heads, one at each end. I go over the underpass and under the overpass. The interstate is warm-blooded and has opposable thumbs. When I stop to rest it is Phoenix in 1947 all over again. I am in a hurry to catch my mother, or death, o…