For Thorsten Kaye

Plots come and go, like wild seas stripped of pride. In the heart of melodrama, life thrives in various eateries and board rooms and in beach homes; scrubbed entities harboring those trapped in the kisses we know are stolen. Nothing is made up, if the world is learned; roads to Bikini remain potent knowledge. Our planned reality; embellished with only desire, shouldn't be worshipped or despised, but seen with eyes wary of each twist. Sound stages turn in a turning world. Lights sweep monolgues. Martinis are stirred like lust, when viewers ponder their own latent flaws.