I was carrying her because she could not go on when it all turned into a modern, subtle update of A Clockwork Orange; random, unexplainable, violent. Among the acts was tossing her off a roof. To the dismay of the evil, she glided.
I know the time. I get it. I'm tightly wound, but know when to kick off the shoes. I pay attention. I observe everything. I know what I'm doing and know how it works. I crave the authentic, the genuine and the classic, and the noise, jive and bullshit of this era will find no purchase on my watch.
And I can flat drive anything.
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