Saturday, August 1, 2009

The Original Mojito

I am exactly a thumb print, dear doctors who read. And I have a television query, fault line constabulary. If you, twinkle of sublime Potsdam, have a reference number handy and type it in. I am proposed for this birthday dinner and more. You will regard the stippling as a wired way to clock. Now dearest salubrious gas mask in the distinct future, control the flight contract. Let doctors who read underline the verbs and nouns of missive in the sunshine. The poetry after which will be particular, like prawns. What are dead people doing, when we roll them together as makers for inclusion? We all think of something, even if it is nothing. Nothing is a consideration, like a ticket. You read a paper stating how Obama included. Which nouns were most masculine, in the inkling that followed?

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