Classic, rounded, reserved shape. Faintly stained. These things aren’t the truth. Why should we always want to know the truth when we can enduringly...indulge ourselves in our far more expansive imagination? These cotton delicacies mask the truth, they are the last mask for the truth. That’s why I find them so erotic. They are the last thing that must mold to her, that she must mold to. They are the last persistent blue flame of the imagination. They are the last thing she uses to hide and the. 'I have much to do, so I must leave you.' And he went away, laughing. Wyju rolled about in agony, but the sticks had been buried so deep that he couldn't pull them out. And the earth became saturated with his blood as he thrashed. And it is still red."My mama's father tells stories like that." Yes, I'm sure." Charlie, Maddy and Weena had been listening."You know many?" Maddy asked."Some. I heard them as a kid in Queensland and when I did fieldwork, I met many bands. Sometimes, the old men would. More

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