ime for another fixture to the temporal/spatial map. A pathetic affectation, don’t you think? Nonetheless. 5:50 a.m., June 10, 1998. The humidity intrudes like the smell of a basketball team after two overtimes. But with less high-fiving, and definitely like a goose-down sleeping bag doused in motor oil and wrapped around your sinuses. The fecundity, the overwhelming presence of vegetable sex organs, everywhere, gaping, spewing, spraying, dispersing, sing heavenly muse—the mammals are getting restless.

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