William Charles Anthony Frerichs, Ice Skating (1869), via Wikimedia Commons. Public domain. In Stockholm it didn’t snow on Christmas or New Year’s Eve or at the beginning of January. The days were ...

turned impotent, and had to be divorced. The nineteenth century, for all its love ...

Saint, terrorist, fishwife. Stench that appals. Famines, machine guns, the Great Plague (your sickness), Rending of garments, cries, mass burials. I'd watched my beard sprout in the mirror's grave.

A sentence is hard for a sudden to spin into space. See the hand perch on to fish out on the limb so to speak?