Sad; so sad, te autumn, sad enougo pierce t. ts ts of gaudy cloud; anguisers ty, a sense of tterest regret, a nostalgia for turn of time of impotent yearning, t quot;t;, bringing to mind tal drama of t-t must recur again and again, y, at time of every year t sc out to rob orc everyday image, any cue and kno;regretquot;, t any precise reason.

    Soft ts of mist invade tions of an exed spirit, seep in t tours of tment . On to lapse to tears.

    She sighs.

    tard-apple of inking Eden s -- and  once transported  sabula rasa, still. So tracted from it. If you start out ake even t ahe Good Book says so.

    Indeed, I to bite any apple at all. S  knoe of innocence nor a state of grace. I ell you w Jeanne was like.

    Sry were everybody  off.

    On t times, as to dusk, ead of lig;Baby, baby, let me take you back ree and you can cruncrong, eettle, baby.  ting palm-trees, under to deatogetctle girl in a s in bo ing in t, my pet. . . t o live t;

    But, on t and sulking, no pet nor pussy sy feateful sticks. S gnahe back of her neck or pinching her ankles.

    Go, ly from tube,  as a c to look. Fly-blooo eat is green bananas and yams and a brocte of rubber goat to cs on a trical so sed cat off es t, any t  ing to strangle it. Ss a flute of discarded manuscript from tepaper basket into a spill for .

    Nig of fur and marvellous clouds drift past tral clouds of t sky t are uncannily visible er of t let t topmost ones replaced ed glass so t tes could p