... Lost in a sea of fabric, wool surf and felted earth hills roll in the distance, I can see them from my cotton boat whose lace sails are waving at you all the way over there. Tooth pick mast in hand and bound for the middle distance, the horizon cut with pinking shears... There are silk flying fish too, all waiting for you to come and join me on my little cotton boat before the beads of rain begin to fall...
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