Look in the mirror and let irony pervade for he who considers himself religious shall have the birds in the sky and anything else that they want, even the ordinary guys who tend to eat as they wish thinking of homely girls who are likely to go at it alone, as they say a little prayer and clean the entire kitchen before they have a normal household pie. But what does it really mean when your thoughts are whirling around the room like a churling dervish, spiraling down the street encased in a leather bookbinding, typecast for everyone else to see, their emotions and opinions are a hurricane; they travel not far behind, flooding the shapely mountains overlooking what they might find for themselves there, an enormous amorous red sea floating before the barricade that protects small cities and towns in a desolate valley.



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