A neon cacophony hung only a few feet above their heads, the popping and buzzing of the lights only occasionally drowned out by the shouts of the barkers, bulbous men whose doughy fat strained at their sweat-stained t-shirts[…]
Our swell ceases with this wind, and the floes seem disposed to come together again; but the days of winter have passed by, and the interposing calves prevent the apposition of the edges
He had forgotten ever writing the work until, ten years later, a memorious friend produced it in Palermo, newly refurbished by Rota.
Fie upon Caroline, Madge, Amelia - / These I reckon the essence of prose!
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