clouded raze every foundry is a wasted face sucking on an unfiltered cigarette. the smoke moves so slow, you could blow it back the other way if you had a ladder long enough to get you up that high. the stream splits where the carbon gets weak. we call those clumps clouds. they blend in with the black when the sun ducks down where it can't be seen. i'm not even a pinhole in that lazy eye the size of texas, and i can't hide that well. 220419 ... kerry [perfect.] 220420 what's it to you? who go blather from