I have in my mind a picture of the wrong side of Florida
Everything is spoiled from within and without, everywhere from tip toe every one is possessed by the demons
I want to be evil, bad, nasty, cruel, daring just to see my face against the nicest, good, sweet, beautiful and moral
My career is philosophy not practicality but a mere speculation of life
I write poetry, prose, study language structures and history for pleasure
Out of life’s necessity I bear others existence like a misanthrope
I love arts, literature and lyricism at the expense of my health
I merely live the life of a relic insect whose life is in pages of the books
On the wrong side of Florida I practice the thouravian behavior