We made a doorknob out of a princess once, illuminating a specious precious sentence bespoke by authority. Yes, Bin Laden, the wellstone of numerical response systems, died the death of orange colours filtering thru the virid empathy of oak leaves. In these days of adding substance to non-substance for the sake of newscasts and angular movement, the subtle backstroke of offering solemn assassination to the wholesome gods of retributive net fund fulminates in dire adjectives applied to homely nouns. Vestiges rally into a picture that could be complete, in the same way that a river can.
Think of the difference one could make if one did not add up.
Think of the relief of mansions in the Arcady of affirmation.
Think of essence as the beginning of a long line of thinking.
When thinking is done, a sentence finishes. One sentence suffices as idea. Several ideas fill a paragraph. The real statement needs an offered structure and aloof. Osama Bin Laden is dead, in the sea, crammed into martyr, piled high with able extant, mildly freighted in terms of buoyancy, stilled by human life, spread thru human life, caulked in the main of human life.
Death follows locally. The princess of the early doorknob shows the assurance of use. Thus martyrs, heroes, and the athlete beyond. Awe car in the day, and the networked night. We have trammels to untrammel, liberty to assail, and ports of call calling.