and nothing but monsters.
I do not want nice monsters who take me on their shoulders from day one.
I do not want any monsters who understand and offer a handkerchief on the second day.
I do not want to be an object to which it comes. I want to be intrigued and interested enough to go to them.
I do not want this one has an ice cream cone in hand, I want him to have scissors.
I do not want the other to tell me that everything will be fine, but it tells me that nothing is fixed.
I want him to sleep under the bed and slap it against the mattress if I move in my sleep. I want great
Hairy monsters, horned, one medium for one, two on each temple to the other, head of goat or dragon and lion-tailed, fish tail, and wolf teeth, gaudy or earthy, black as Satan. I want Monster.
A fantasy.
Pan and an army of fauns. Men and animals-goats to play the scapegoat. And coming into town, they destroy everything. There might be a unicorn, which would attract to itself all the little virgin. She tells them a story, because they are rare, mothers who tell stories to their children. I was told there were. Maybe. I want
Monsters make me afraid to first meeting, and that makes me laugh a second, and to which I cling to the third and forever.
Monsters who I want when I turn, threatened to eat me because they are sad.
last fantasy that is not me. I regret that. Spike Jonze and little Max Maurice Sendak, who has already come to visit me here .
Just wanted to post these images, in addition to the rest.
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