What. What. In favor of calibrated greens (interruption) Calibrated? Greens? (practically without intonation or not that masculine maybe) Yes.
Right. Right. Converging greens. A maple tree, grasses. (long silence) Grasses. Anyway. I had been working for a Coptic (pause)
(looks at a Herald Tribune edition on the nearby table) For a man I had been working, a man from unknown whereabouts.
(a head pops up from beneath the table and says) Our hero may have been working for (disappears) Quite there but, As I said. Unexpected. For all I knew, being half a part unknown and forgotten half the other. Picking dead leaves from the pavement. Or grasses. (silence) Grasses. Anyway. Picking dead leaves from the pavement. Or Grasses. And hang them to the naked branches of a maple tree.
So what. Well. Right. Yeah. I tell you. Excrements were not meant to have the leading part. Rogues farted and on glossy pages (looks at the Herald Tribune edition, a head lays on it) So.
So we took the dirt and put it to the tree. Heads dripped from the tree. Nothing else to be expected.
With sartorial elegance saps dripped from the pavement. I loved it. (long silence) Anyway.