Thousand: Nine Hundred Forty-Two

done, who haven’t walked a mile in your moccasins, who haven’t drunk the milk of your tits, who haven’t swooned appropriately in long dry meetings, well, for them empathy can be a challenge. They just don’t understand. You think you’ve signed the right contracts, kicked back cash money to the right bureaucrat, danced and danced and danced and danced and danced until the convulsions of transcendental exhaustion have you turning jaguar, but it’s a bust. That’s how everything has been constructed. Shoddy solder, weak glue, frayed cord. Your dreams will fall apart on you. If God gives you purple daisies,