Brice: Shatter the glass? Isn't that sheer folly?
Anya: There is no glass – just lines on water.
Carlos: There is no water – jest movement ah mind.
Devani: Dere's no mind – jes . . .?
Brice: Huh? Yo – wake up! You'z getting mesmerized bye philosoofee.

STRANGER - an self-portrait & poem by T Newfields
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Copyright 1989 - 2013 by T Newfields. All rights reserved.
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