You change in the town, and the town changes for you, said a person cultured green with the envious season approaching. The world sparkles with the simplest demands, which will be spoken of. The world of Worcester specifically, with its mountainous people, its lacustrine highways, its specious and spacious wariness of all catalogues and diligence, this world of being starts to control the outlay of song. Pressures build buildings of weight, that tower more than 5 stories high, even as the sky topples into averages. The people, underneath, bluster about condition as they read the details. This is the course of empire. From one fat city to one fat forest, and in between, a few shocks and divergences. We are required to read the news, and fall from our chair, and open a system, and pull our little boat ashore. It may work as we study our hopes. Colours speak season, season sparks us. Meanwhile, information roots into everything we do. Measurement is possible throughout the system.
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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