Prime numbers react to acids vented from archetype. Dream in which spelling counts, then night of long knives. Logically speaking, not so soothing, when the adding is done. They were children like reaction, attending Phish concert number 17101. The set list was hot, and every instrument in the band made sound. In fit vagary, ocean spun calculated tang for the bums in luxury. Resistance means universal health care, poured on the shores of taxation. This reveals why people stagger. Trees mean something until winter, then the wood is easy burning. So are children, in the back seat of each city. So are spellbound denting of pillows, as the head falls for slumber in an age. The guitarist of importance scratches chords from elegy. Or whatever, child in time.
From the thing itself, beyond seasoned aptness. Life is like living but blurred by you were listening. Aspect ratio telemetry in myriad languages smooth as rocks approaches time to look. Words piece together things or things find words. Endlessness is a choice, written big in words as shiny as geese. Words simply take the time in radiation and radical point. Stein wrote the heft of nothing special, start there or whatever. You can slowly adjust the franchise, commodity's inner workings. Subglacial quips, subliminal washouts, frantic azure in the breeze of frosty Friday: these special sparking hallways slyly enjoin. Maybe you read too much into reading too much. Further on is where you’ll stay.
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