The Pope’s Private Parts

During the long, suffocating tropical nights of last summer, I was sometimes reduced to a feverish state by the unrelenting heat. As buckets of sweat oozed from pores I don’t remember having, I was seized by fantasies of an almost megalomaniac nature. Do your eyeballs have pores? Mine seem to. They certainly sting with sweat-type juice sometimes. To get back to the point, stalking the no-man’s land between semi-consciousness and dream my mind overran with improbable visions and bizarre imaginings. I dreamed of having the most popular blog in the world, and ways I might achieve it. Read more

 

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