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July 16, 2005
Sensuality curls itself into a ball bouncing with a trajectory that is almost-- predictable. Not quite. Intentions cull into complications blurring what should have been the yellow line of tresspass, permitting exceptions until the game cannot end anymore. As it should. The sidelines provide infinite possibilities contracted to X and O. But the court has expanded bringing in the I, the U, the Y until-- there is only one play left. Two coiled springs about to launch another futile round, a proverbial whistle raised over the din, to signal the start of-- voluntary surrender. blue rogue |