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  • Format: ePub

447 is all fucked for a start. The blooming garbage truck and the symphony of off beat drumming and hydraulic screaming. So if you enjoy bitching and aren't Baptist. Good fun.
448 We move Namor and Barbaralba through Havatara and up to Three Rivers. Barbaralba is invited to play with the orchestra. So they need some time to work on that. And Mark has a few IDs.
449 has some action. A concert on Eden and Mark goes to Athens to get shot and robbed. It was not his plan. He was hoping for a little more fun. Hot whores and cold drinks. So here we go with a little action.
450 The good news
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Produktbeschreibung
447 is all fucked for a start. The blooming garbage truck and the symphony of off beat drumming and hydraulic screaming. So if you enjoy bitching and aren't Baptist. Good fun.

448 We move Namor and Barbaralba through Havatara and up to Three Rivers. Barbaralba is invited to play with the orchestra. So they need some time to work on that. And Mark has a few IDs.

449 has some action. A concert on Eden and Mark goes to Athens to get shot and robbed. It was not his plan. He was hoping for a little more fun. Hot whores and cold drinks. So here we go with a little action.

450 The good news is, they found Mark. The bad news. He had no diamonds. But Anna Lucia is on it. She hacked into the city cameras, back when I was a kid, there were no such intrusions. Back in the old days. There was other shit to worry about. We had cameras when I grew up.

451 Jack and Tim collected Mark and with the help of a wheelchair got him to a car and then a private jet. Anna Lucia and Esau paid Sven a visit. We called him Luke once. He preferred Luke but he is out of our story already. For we are flying back to the USA.

452 Back in New York City and Lilly is still in Wyoming. So Anna Lucia invited Esau to her place.

453 Some proclamation of fairytale love and longing with a hint of despair and mental degradation. The degradation is not new. Inherited from generations of despondency from living as slaves or peasants putting hope in the potato crop and too much rain rotted them all. Now there is only foul mud. And bunny love.

454. Lilly had a meeting with the 12 sons and the one daughter. And 3 banks. Ms. Kuntz was so pleased with the Tim Reaper Foundation that she gave him, his team, a key, virtual really, to their private island. And Esau and Lilly are going to go.

455 Esau and Lilly have been left at the little island. No other humans. So they need not wear clothes and can do a little spearfishing.

"After sex."

Yes, My Love. She gets right to it.

456 Maybe something happened. But we missed it. We had a little word dance.

457 It is a little difficult to concentrate, My Love. For before the reading of your letter today, I checked e-mail. And your mother wrote. And she seldom does if not to ask if I wanna be her driver. I know it ain't time yet for your ass on my face, that's part of the fairytale. I might look at it once. And other things. Barbaralba and Namor are riding east. Esau is with Lilly on the island.

458 Was mostly about mental instability. Barbaralba and Namor are now in Barbaralba Town. We did not report on the many days they had on the ocean side trail.

459 It is a hopeless situation for the narrator. He gets Esau and Lilly going at it like teenagers in grown up heads. What could come to pass if we find cures for aging. Stupid condition. Then again. Some people might be better off dead. Thinking of political folk. But mostly thinking of the goddess.

460 The Blakes have come to visit Barbaralba Town. So there is a shark feast. A gentle night on the beach. Other minor local news. Nothing much. Some speculations why a universe over nothing. The nothing can be theory.

461 Some dreaming of the woman of the future by a duck pond before getting back to our other future. And the astrophysicals have adjusted the age of the universe back to 13.75 billion.

"Back from what."

13.8. And maybe that is a silly thing.

462 We had many photos on the weekend so the writing is short. A little break. Here in 2022 that break is coming to an end. The break from photos, I mean.

463 was a Sunday with far too many photos to work through and on.

464 We have a little run on words. No details about bowling but we were up there rolling a few lanes and filling a few pages and drinking a brew or two. Talking about anything.

465 It was a dark and lonely Tuesday. Despair wa...


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Autorenporträt
Born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada 1960. Moved to London, Ontario, Canada in 1967. Started playing hockey and piano. Went to Sir Wilfred Laurier High School and played the trumpet.

Studied Architectural Technology at Fanshawe College of Applied Arts and Sciences. Started playing guitar and writing a little. On a trip to the mountains in 1982 with a friend I decided, or was awakened to the knowledge that I was going to pursue writing. Graduated 1984 and moved to Toronto.

Moved to Saarbrücken, Germany in 1993.

Have traveled many places in North, Middle and South America and Europe.

Besides reading and writing also work on photography and music.