Welcome back to the real world. The Matrix has belched us all out again, and thus the Song of the EveryDay—a hymn of low, mournful tones—fills the air as those of us in the USA look past our weekend of summertime revelry. Time to set aside those incendiary devices for another year and we can … Continue reading Nothing Remained But A Heap of Ashy, Sulfurous Paper Bits And The Aftertaste of Sausage
Nothing Remained But A Heap of Ashy, Sulfurous Paper Bits And The Aftertaste of Sausage
