Reading Ulysses in Montana #323

Martin stared at her wicked aquiline ear. His gaze penetrated her clouds of pity and appeased her slight mourning.

Winny faced his transparent socks and buckled the photo to the waft of starlight. Moustache, expressing the soul of the play. The haunting chalk of twins steeled the dreams of the girlwoman, for she knew what it was. She knew what mattered.

Martin mattered as the idol of her distant sea of cheeks. Of wonderful instincts into true majesty.