Chaos City.

See if he'll take your word against mine. Happy days.

The sun goes down in a wild blaze of color.

We were exploring different aspects of ourselves.

Sunday is the day when people go to church.

We never work on Sunday.

Evolution did not prepare us for this.

I have a website called Style from Tokyo, which is updated daily.

We work on every day of the week except Sunday.

We work every day but Sunday.

We work every day except Sunday.

And in a minute now, I'm going to put this map into motion.

It's sort of like a bad tempered two year old.

And this seems quite a profound question.

With collarbones, as if with timber work,

Our daily bread

We fight in the shade.

What do you got? It's just a little tickle at the back of my throat, but it's...

No More Good Days

Sometimes, but today...

Especially at things that break up the daily routine.

We are against working on Sundays.

We are all in daily pursuit of happiness.

We work by the day.

Out of sight, out of mind.

We work daily.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Death

Well, every mom and dad knows the answer to that.

One consequence of that, by the way, is that the phone never broke.

My friend left Netherfield for London on the following day.

Surround us with roses

Her flesh, picked off, day after day.

The day is ours.

Sunday is the day when people go to church.

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

I have been living in a prison of fear since that day.

We should sometimes expose our bodies to the sun.

And yet, I don't think we really know what it is.

. ..but today, as we all know.. .

Suddenly, those good old days are gone

Fear and wonder. A powerful combination.

People are dying every day.

Or worship a cross

And we'll deal with it tomorrow.