And None At All Has Ridden At

I Like That: A Little Pressure On The Understood Boundaries Of Yourself. Sounded Like Something Out Of A Self-awareness Class, Probably With Yoga. See What Kind Of A Pretzel You Can Tie Yourself Into And Press On The Understood... I Was Raving, If Only To Myself.

The Magic In That Country Was So Thick And Tenacious That It Settled Over The Land Like Chalk-dust And Over Floors And Shelves Like Slightly Sticky Plaster-dust. (housecleaners In That Country Earned Unusually Good Wages.) If You Lived In That Country, You Had To De-scale Your Kettle Of Its Encrustation Of Magic At Least Once A Week, Because If You Didn't, You Might Find Yourself Pouring Hissing Snakes Or Pond Slime Into Your Teapot Instead Of Water.

There Had Been Certain Romantic Interludes In The Past That Had Included Galloping Across The Desert At Night; But He Had Never Abducted Any Woman Whose Enthusiastic Support For Such A Plan Had Not Been Secured Well In Advance.

What Was New Was The Fact That, Despite My Heart Doing Its Fight-or-flight, Help-we're-prey-and-hey-stupid-that's-a-vampire Number, I Was Glad To See Him. Ridiculous But True. Scary But True.

...but With The Hours I Sometimes Kept At The Coffeehouse I Had To Have Learned To Take Naps During The Day Or Die, And I Had Learned To Take Naps. Up Until Five Months Ago "something Or Other Or Die" Had Always Seemed Like A Plain Choice In Favor Of The Something Or Other.