Back to you, interpreter, our decon is a struction out of time and into space when the moment infinites into faith and less and ness don't go nouning me it's verb-all and curb call --yes, a ride to where I'm going would be nice, but I need to walk. There is a sentence, life to death. Birth? No, no decision point then. It's a matter of lividity and stroopwafel. Delta and the up-aired when-thered don't be a weather be whether and find out constantly. Erase to go on and when that nub is gone let the metal rake the paper and see what lies under that so-falled truth.