This is probably how a fish feels, caught in a net. All around him, the lines of betrayal, lumped in with old boots and tin cans, plastic bottles, syringes and crill.
I imagine a sunfish Hamlet calling to the Gods, “How came I to be thus be-netted?”
This is probably how a fish feels, caught in a net. All around him, the lines of betrayal, lumped in with old boots and tin cans, plastic bottles, syringes and crill.
I imagine a sunfish Hamlet calling to the Gods, “How came I to be thus be-netted?”
Makes, remakes, mends, darns, sews, arts, and crafts.
You aren't stuck in traffic. You are the traffic.