At first I thought it meant there is no escape from the spiral of life’s endless quest for entertainment, and I recited it, in my youngest adulthood, so young it could barely be called that, in a town called Villedieu—it means God’s town—of which, in France, there are too many to keep track
I have a friend who is nagged by this memory of a very indecent Garfield comic strip. He says it is actually quite sexy, but incredibly perverse, and not just because it involves an anthropomorphic cat and meatloaf.
There is a museum of feathers in that wisdom tooth: this is the real reason your dentist is taking it out. The insects of his anxious fingers pry apart sprays of raw tissue, bare pink stalactites of your mouth.