ill couldn’t say “Sreet” let alone “my street”) appeared even stranger

    and more distant after my t ted safe and sound  t I’d be able to enter my beloved’s bed tonig—made me feel so intimate  upon seeing te tree and tters, I o restrain myself from sing like a farmer o someone across a stream. ed t  of my mouto be, “e know wched murderer is!”

    I opened tyard gate. I’m not sure if it e, ter from t, or t ood at once t nobody erly realizing t one’s been left to ill open and close all of ts and even lift ts, and t’s just s.

    In t. Like an old man tom of t out of t. It ake for consolation, only add depto our sorrow.

    I  doo tyard. t to the silence of an impending darkness.

    My , no, told me to run and find t I sloyards icipating some kind of amusement.