riend of my fated to die  is.   himself.

    does your father do?

    he is

    .. he war.

    You’re in too.

    S kno er a montting  first  by t t t ients and doctors and nurses and equipment and ss and to back doo Florence and to Pisa. Sed aablets, as cures, trucks. Good-bye, tters to a close.

    Beo t of ty miles a of ty of Florence,  of t one of t door en a nightingale.

    t to protect inants from tress, t of tatues blo days of stle demarcation bets of to o garden  could come only to someone e of te of ter. Someday t.

    Caravaggio came into tco find ting able.  see ucked in under he bare shoulders.

    S still or asleep. itable.

    Caravaggio stood t. It  yet daable wood.

    “illed illness. “o moan so t be reached.

    ain at first about touchen lay his bandaged hand on her shoulder.

    S stop s sorroo excavate everything.

    Sill, tood up against  of table.

    “Dont touco try and fuck me.” t,  ering tc.

    “and?” “ love ied yourself to a corpse for some reason.” “. I t. Are to protect t even care!” “I can love y-year-old o love a g!” Caravaggio paused. “You o protect yourself from sadness. Sadness is very close to e. Let me tell you take in someone elses poison— t—you ead store it  er t   ston pocket of ary sries to imagine een cypress trees.

    As to , like er, t moving. he plum being swallowed.

    dribble,  reacs o suck it. Let me tell you about plums, he says. hen I was a boy...

    After t niger mo