Intro...
Draw...
Poems..



       Skipper Balder:     an emeritus veteran: and nervous tourist:
before the minute: walked  through the gate of the hotel cautiously:
he grabbed his mouth: rubbed the sore corners with fingertips:   and
then: exhaled out into his palm loudly.
       Already that time:  his heart began to beat on the inner side
of his ribs triumphantly. His eyes slide hungry over the surrounding
greenery: those milky green rings..
       She's here.
       Is here!
       Wake up: you fucker!    :roars the ancient voice from his big
gray head.
       P. Balder:     skipper of the first renaissance fleet Hydron:
goes on:  a few steps under vaulting from lindens branches       and
pulling sticky hops:            Ree?



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