My guilt sticks to me like a piece of gum sticks to my shoe on a hot day. Perhaps there is a judgment waiting, a Hague-For-Books with my name on its wanted list. Will they extradite me, a grizzled and shrivelled little shadow of my former self, perhaps from some tropical island?
My guilt sticks to me like a piece of gum sticks to my shoe on a hot day. Perhaps there is a judgment waiting, a Hague-For-Books with my name on its wanted list. Will they extradite me, a grizzled and shrivelled little shadow of my former self, perhaps from some tropical island?