dots sweating sentence.
At the end of a logical, structured remark, a dot.
The dot must know something.
There are tears in the way the sentence stops.
There are traditions fitting into the nexus that the sentence comprises.
You think in hieroglyphics then adopt this trap.
What kind of a person, reaching across the dark street, into the church, where altars are playful and imply no more than a bumper sticker or worried look, past the rotten flowers, hoping for what, redemption? And the choice of two crappy political articles situated in the gloom of the village, all the while the person reaching into the church with words that need a syntactical environment, and a way to end. So the sentence, dutifully, conjugates a reply to all the fret and teeming wordplay... there are tadpoles in Walden Pond!
