I am in new bookstore. On my way to the books I pass through a small annex in the front where I see a friend. He says he is in charge of the magazines. I think that he is too lazy and disorganized to handle it. I do not see any. He had put them behind curtains, neatly stacked shelves close to the floor. I pick up a large one, the size of "Rolling Stone"--3 feet by 2 feet. It is strange eccentric classic faces on small bodies as short as face. The faces have flesh-colored tones. I turn the page and it is a picture of children in a garden gathering flowers. Every flower is an erect penis about a foot long--a little like a tulip but closer to big erect phallus with pink head or knob than more red.