Small, Madison Fallen, little room for him, too busy thinking of things to do. like a balloon that was inflated in the past for excess of carbon dioxide is now just sminchio, sterile, empty.
there is space and time to think like him and still live with yourself. two is hard, is tough already own. when risk is better to change to meet road, slip into some narrow side street, hoping that he does not turn. I do not come looking. I do not see him as more like myself that I do not.
