And Japanese pickled vegetables, the sounds of thumping, at a cheaply built house.
For a homely woman, with a pencil in my hand, in front of the mirror.
Off your name, my mind to have gotten, in the early afternoon alone.
To open his heart, for ascertaining, by force of his personality.
Under sunshine in this winter, to put a drop from an eyewash, at a center ball spring on my parasol.