the_underside_of_your_story fyn gula there is a yellow box near your front door that says, "postes." vichy painted the letters, took him over an hour, but your bottle of trentino (red) was too good to pass up and so he took his good old time. you planted lantana, saying it would make it through a pennsylvania winter. it was, "for the mailman." just like the iris are for grandma and uncle kerby. she will send you letters just so you know beauty is not exclusive. "everything is," you wrote in a card to me, a post card from costa rica. "everything demands to be looked at." 021011 what's it to you? who go blather from