Dear May Flower,

It is not unusual for confession to follow confusion, for despair to follow delight, or for turtles to turn out to be tortoises. The pants, if that is what they are, leave me breathless. And in a rather self-conscious non sequitur, the mountain one is faced with has all the characteristics of the lunar landscape.

Yours in the shape of Martha of the Minstrels,

“The Exception That Proves The Rule”

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