CIty officials assure us hat they have caught the real Dart Man. And that these others are imitation dart men. Hard to know which is stranger, the passion for hitting women in the buttocks with darts or the passion for imitation.
Marie-Claude, fallen, "I am still very much a one-armed girl. But I am saving just enough strength to hug you when you arrive."
Are the officials trying to convince us now that the imitation darts do not sting as much as the genuine article?
Please, please take best care my friends. I cannot bear the thought that either of you should be hurt, ever.
Meanwhile the Zodiac Killer is looking for a Leo.
You've really got to wonder sometimes.
The city you describe does not exist, says Kublai Khan.
- Carole Maso
Currently rereading AVA, and the difference is the first time I read it the tight pain of gathering of the self to the self, before the self disappears, was my foremost thought, the number of pages extinguishing the speaker, but the second time—although that tight pain is still there—I'm thinking about privilege, and the way this speaker is so trapped in history and art and travel. She feels very real in that.