reading terribly sophisticated messages that members of this group send
to one another (and indirectly to me) for several months now. Some days
seem to be less aggravating than others. Although, with St. Augustine,
I wouldn't want my pain to be taken from me, on certain days I have a
feeling that I'm watching a huge conveyer belt on top of which a bunch
of well-meaning elfs dance to the tune of Pound's LUSTRA.
Best regards to all,
Jacek Niecko
Washington DC
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