Test your eardrums with the sound of a splintering podium. This natural feeling has come from afar and reasons with the absurdity of pompoms. You retrieve a newspaper from the elevator's undercarriage. Together we make a comeback. This pulley feels stretched and slack, I doubt it can hold onto its meaning much longer. He drove through the night into morning. There was a huge explosion. Fragments of the church rained on the lake; the stereo, bi-amped lake. I catch a fleeting image of sunshine on my bristled tongue, and all the happenings, until now, dissolve like a sugar cube. Squared with my jaw, the lender asks for interest, I offer only a mild case of indifference. Flown and flew: two words linked with a penthouse's spiral staircase, spilling precious coffee on the Oriental rug. Aruba is a place I want to explore. If only there were more.