pleated raze the dream that saves his life is little more than a memory of a monologue. a friend tearing up while talking about food. "this isn't just a sandwich. it's everything." he takes long, lithe steps through the aisles of a derelict department store. makes a sound like an engine struggling to start after a long time without being touched. he is a thick fabric folded in half. to part the pleat would be to see how the story ends before it's been fully told. better to stand back and let the wind do what it will. you never know when some great gust might rip the guts out of everything. 251230 what's it to you? who go blather from