FuriousoFuriouso by Mike Patterson It was hot in the theatre. It was an irritating day. He couldn’t decide whether he should wipe the bead of sweat off his face or not: its slow descent down the side of his face was irritating, but if he wiped it away, he would just have a big sweat smear on the side of his face, which was not suitable for a composer conducting his own music. It was supposed to be like this, though. The stars said that he would show the world something magnificent tonight, and here he was doing just that, or at least he thought so. But theyFuriouso
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life is a kreis.
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"Sometimes nothing can be a pretty Cool Hand."
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life is a kreis.
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what are you doing here
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