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Twenty-Seven.
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linda perdido 171 Twenty-Seven. linda perdido linda perdido linda perdido i know it is a ridiculous name and even more ridiculous because her name in triplex iteration is, I swear, identical to my own tritone call (at least in the micawberish gibberish of Macaws) as i soar far, far above you all on my great circle journey, crossing latitude after latitude, in search of lord knows what, others of my kind, of my kind of kind, perdido’s Macaw, brothers and sisters of a radiance both indescribable and unfathomable, with our double-tufted crest and strictly double-crested flight plan. Keen of eye, i spy them, linda’s good sister, Qua (who am i to doubt the veracity of what she claims to be the truth?) and the sad and handsome Traveler, a romantic time-traveler, and like so many i see below, a man enraptured by his own effort to recover something that is presumed to have been lost from something that is presumed not to be. doubt? Truth, or her sister reality (we Macaws are highly intelligent, it seems, although our insight into the minds of bottom-dwelling rational bipeds is limited)? 172 MaC WellMan What from what wonder we perdido Macaws. What i overhear from far below is a passionate, though blighted, encounter of the strictly north american variety, and more precisely, the Set County north american variety: Qua. all of it was true even if i did rearrange the matter in a manner more readable, more easily understood and followable by a massmarket paperback audience and for a widely diverse national television format; the Traveler. oh, Qua, i am so blessed to hold your suffering small body in my arms, and i forgive you even if opera does not, for you are so clearly and so distinctly apart from the likes of James and laura and even Margaret whose portrait of gangland in a far western archipelago of Set County’s new South Wattage, a place of holy oil woods and towering fabrications and downloads and uploaded tall tales of celluloid and digital retread —the imaged entirety of Set County on an endless loop of cleansing and atonement…Qua (interrupting fiercely). But how could i be so stupid as to…as to…as to…; but she cannot say what it is and so he holds her closer as the storm howls all around on Hudson’s Bay near Churchill, who i seem to recall, did build out of nothing, the nation of Iraq, another fairly convincing, semipermanent semblable, half a world away but on my habitual perdidoly Great Circuit. Shall i interrupt the lovers? She cannot admit her exposure on Opera Palfrey’s television show, only weeks after her anointment as the latest best seller with her account of her sister’s decline into bad behavior and worse: her, Qua’s utter exposure by Opera as Opera tearfully reveals an anonymous letter (written in a spidery hand) challenging Qua’s account of the miraculous reappearance (through what perfidious time tunnel ?) of the Battle of the Kursk Salient in Set County at roughly (and coincidentally?) The same moment as her sister’s devolution into madness and pyromania at Saint lydia’s and the WalMarts [35.171.159.141] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 09:26 GMT) linda perdido 173 at and , all places made up and manufactured out of whole cloth and even worse, all smelling of creosote. and of course after the business of James and laura and Margaret all that opera and the television industry (not to mention Mister Slow Burn Slipp’s own personal hedge fund) need is another instance of the place of the site or recovery being blown sky-high into a million little pieces. (This perdido’s Macaw smells the sulfurous breath of Spider Getuli on this whole matter, but the machination of his similar, Mister Slipp himself is not to be ruled out as an Efficient Cause if not the final one, which we Macaws in our habitual and Micawberish orbicularity are likely to be dubious about. and all those weird names, Qua. and all those sins of your sister, linda. Sins piled upon one another like ossa upon pelion, opera whinnies, and your account of Manstein and rostmistrov meeting like long-lost brothers; and now actually shedding tears, opera: and your account of Girlie Boy Hitler and Girlie Boy Stalin meeting, as a result of counseling, at the Monkey Bar in domely when there is not a shred...