…PRAYER IS A LITTLE DROP OF SUNSHINE…

[Response to the home movie resumed its present-tensed glory…]

There are no women anymore.

And I see that you agree, and that’s why we’re fucking.  It’s not that I can’t find any, it’s just that I can’t find any.

And I see that to me I must be walking, somewhere (although to where [I have lost my way {what way? “Is there even a fucking way?”}]) I don’t know.

Because I used to know how, and you told me it was right; and he knew too.

We were all going to find it.

Find it.  Can I?

Can you? Could it, her (that is what I’m talking about right?), even be found.

And I must be walking, because I used to know and I lost my way.  Can I, could it, even be found?

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