And the manscape is our realm, our spatial destiny where we must act and respond, where for our lifetime we must be who we will be.

Blinking in a yellowlit housewindow two faces fixed aspectant in some domestic tragedy. Rapid his progress who petrifies these innocents into stony history.

His lips, warm with his words, caught hers in a gusty kiss.

“Introduce me, now there’s a good fellow,” he said, “If we happen to meet it together!” And the Bellman, sagaciously nodding his head, Said “That must depend on the weather.”