a hell of a parade
Mattis Manzel:
Dear fluorescent mistress of the bread,
You are at least somewhere, you’re real, somehow.
Wolkenkuckucksheim is a vast land. The seagulls oversee things. They pass over to the Heim, every evening. And they make a hell of a parade before doing so. Right before the night descends.
Sleep tight, jolly queenie.
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