Tanzy's on a rainy Sunday afternoon in April: the sights and sounds!
I am among them.
To see the minds that dreamed this up! To see them near and close but to never, NEVER know them! Projected out through vast and blowing landscapes I see their gentle faces: they who do not know me but who love me as their own, they who do not know me but who show me to a dream of gentle fabrics, gentle smiles, gentle perfumes blowing from incomprehensible kitchens where the weeping wonders of their world with kindly hands prepare my meals! Soft: the steaming food approaches. And in it all the joys and horrors of the world, all the wonders, beauties, lies and dreams. Through the blowing changing landscapes I glimpse the marvel of the others, my fellow travelers on this rainy Sunday afternoon in April. They whisper, whistle, marvel, wonder at it all; we are alive, we strangers here together now. Oh, greedy clink of loving fork to loving plate! Oh greedy loving slurp of tongue! Probe the heavens and the hells of a million unknowable, impossible worlds! Of the beautiful, glowing worlds.
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