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And I am the one to do it! How do I get into that city? Everything has failed. How could you reason with such a son? The embarrassment." Which was it? My anger-I // had become a concept. I used to-have a verbal-conceptualization for-it // as told // I met a woman, I-came to live-with, when in paint-art class // I began to throw balled up Kleenex // soaked in colored-oil; and throw them at canvas - first-ruse // I can't paint // what is it? // in a-fit-to-pity anger-burst // something I saw on TV or a movie probably; only half-remembered, if at all. We fell in love. I applied Anger-I, almost exclusively, as not-fair otherwise, to inanimate-objects // poor things. So he-couldn't love-me. How could I know-that? He had left-us anyway. I was the man of the house. Love him // I'm not gay // Not that the thought didn't cross my mind: sex with father: because I loved him?

I remember we visited the Wailing Wall, and the Dome of the Rock, in this brief period. Everybody is a proselytizer. Isn't it the greatest. 'It' was never defined. 'It' was where you stood - now. My little acre. I never thought in terms of acres, and castle complexes, all so-l labyrinth-like, yea-I-know. When I thought of land, I thought of free-swamp, that no-one could dump-on, like the one south-east of the island. What was all the fuss? Something about land for the first time in a millennium-ever-naw. The land is all of ours. "Anybody can play, if you can-shoot, if you can-think, and if you-can afford it."

I-am we-of We-Only, was a foreign concept to me. My grandparents were Scandinavian We-Onlys. I was to-suppose // be-one of-them. A dog-owner I never was, raised by a dog, but never owned-one.

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