Thousand: Fifty

kingdoms, the kiss that wakes mountains. The kiss, once planted, grows in concentric smackeroo circles, ripples widening, widening, until your life is contained, the world, too. I don’t know. Velma, what do you think? Ask the girl? I should ask the girl? The one with the lemonade? Isn’t she the evil twin? I don’t know. Personally, I think we need a change of scene. A pond. A monk is sprinkling rice among the lily pads, red and black and silver koi touch the surface with their mouths and the grains of rice disappear. It’s like magic. Maybe you need a