I USE A LOT
OF METAPHORS
My dog is an angel the likes of no other.
I keep only heaven in my otherwise empty
wallet; it grows like moss, all the way to my
heart, which is coated. Outside the destitute
and the dying, there are no really hard-up people:
except those mentally ill, who convince themselves
they're normal. And everyone else like them is too.
That's where so many prime distinctions come into
play : you are not like me, and I am not you.
'Let us go then, you and I, when the evening
is spread out against the sky.'
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