Diane Williams

She was a tree like that, a pot like that, a pan like that. I was wearing a hat like that, a wig like that.
She was becoming more earthly as I turned. I have never had any complaints about her. Do you want her?
"No," you say?
Take her, I say.
"No," you still say?
Certain other people think you must. You are making the biggest mistake of your life. She is Norwegian enough, more of an inhabitant than I thought she was. When they were holding her, she looked fatigued in the field of thought. It is an impression I have of her that is not flexible enough to be spread out.

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