Ruthie, tall skinny lady with red lipstick and blue babushka, one blue sock and one green because she forgot, is the only grown-up we know who likes to play.
He has two little black dogs that go everywhere with him. They don’t walk like ordinary dogs, but leap and somersault like an apostrophe and comma.
Sire. How did you hold her? Was it? Like this? And when you kissed her? Like this?
They are the only ones who understand me. I am the only one who understands them. Four skinny trees with skinny necks and pointy elbows like mine. Four who do not belong here but are here.
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