I feel as the week moves on in a productionwardly direction my attention span for all other things in life wears thin. Thinner than Thin, The thinnest way to wear thin. Thin like the knees of your favorite pants. Thin like the sweet layer of chocolate on top of a Three Musketeers. Thin like the 100 year old costume that I get to wear as a slave. Thin like the featherweight hair I inherited from my mom. Thin like Christian Bale’s upper lip. Thin like my little sister. Thin like the number of zeros in my bank account. Thin like the sound of an obo in the upper register. Thin like....
1 comment:
Thin like the air on Mount Everest...
p.s. curse the wretched spammers
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