I am not a ghost! Atlantic suggests we swoosh in time, or at least bank together. These acidic hands are not meant for ballrooms educated in luster. OH! Pity Please! I need a man or … a robot. Too many times I’ve been walking and I mug some one right out of nowhere. Can you believe that? Life is like setting up dominoes on a mailbox. You never know when the wind is going to blow your dominoes down. But I digress…

When will we find ourselves?