NOW here....

This one interested me (i liked the look). I suppose it's an equation of sorts; nothing to write home about. But phew! How long I'd been gone from these shores! How much had happened in my own life. To be sure, Odysseus returning home is not a well loved theme (except for a Sunday Weepie) with weetabix. And then this.... release of language! How why? Where? I was interested, why? How. What had happened during our sumer together/ Our Sumer@Ur Document/ our meeetings in the LIbrary (I didn't know it could still feel "illicit"!. Grandeur of information had been repeated over and over again. I was sinking into pub Life, crawling through those lonely hours until the Witwaterswarand of my own wallet had become "comme un oigle". The Brueghel in me had ravaged the mseums for fine print. The coffee on the cobblestones. That flight to Boston. How I had to explain to you where New England was/is! And then she, Estre, arriving so suddenly, and we launched into the Nabokovian discourse, because she was French and over here to learn Anglais non plus. Je sais. "Here." Showering webot lingo franca! Creativity spewing tumbling, tweetered out at two a.m, falling into her Facebook page, delighted, pouring froth of denoument and agitation. Was the medium really the message. Ah toute alors. J'ecoute (the din of the train) riding my conscience: c'est le temps pour travail. She, demurred to the clock and asked her great-grandfather JP for forgiveness. Kets, bafs, l'argent, Id. Check. And then gone. Out the door, leaving only her socks.