"The world is provisional and carries with it the germ of the future." - Pompo
We mention not the SUPERMARCHCE
We mention not the supermarche.
We mention not the quiet soothing lulls of a march around the aisles, in search of the snafu-like sustenance, failing to nutritionalize ourselves.
Oh! He whimpers.
Oh!
The one eyed gentleman on the spiraled-cat. He beckons to your gallbladder, a memory of Honshu.
The Supermarche floods with pinkish waves, a deluge in a desert.
The government federalies cordon off the region. Survivors are shot on sight.
We mention not the supermarche.



