SAGITTARIUS, ARCHER OF THE SOUTH WIND

She holds the mirror in her hand.

TEMPLE RELIEF; A LIKE VISAGE? OR MEAGRE GUESSWORK AT THE BLEAK TRUTH?

Everything in its right place.

EXCERPT: NEW YORK TIMES, PERILS AT BRECKINRIDGE

[God please, please… Please let this end.] [Whatever this is, I’m sorry.] [I don’t deserve this, I…]

Where do extinct species go? — A collection of essays by Laramie Beaufort

•The dark shroud envelops everything. And everything, and everything.

•Wretched eyes grasp at me. At you? I am you. I have always been. And they stare at me. Hungry. Desperate. Cloying and tired.

•Wretched hands grasp at you.

+Dasn’t let your mind wander now, Francis. You must meet with the constable later today.

+ A good Maine Yankee learns what it means to be ‘neighbourly’. For you, it means staying out of other people’s muck and minding your business. It means, looking over your shoulder, and not minding if someone spreads nastinesses of you. A working man hasn’t the time for that.

+ Why would I think about my self? Ive got work to do. +You put on your garments. They are pocked and a tapestry at once; mendings of mendings of mendings. When you earn merely $4 a week, you learn to appreciate meagrenesses like this.