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The Gods Briskly Delete

Trappist flunk invidious transformer. Period is the new comma, but comma still holds the semi-colon collectively. Last October meant David Bromige lived. The cheeks of days surrounded the cleft words and abundance. We wrote to see the word.

A brandished flicking thing tolled over doubts of meaning to. The death of David Bromige circulated words of saying so. So what is basic, sow more is prevailing. We stick to roofs as we slide among stars.

Dentists discharge tooth integrity, and flaring stalks of regent highlights include dogma-based flaking procedures. All will be drilled, someday.

Those in the flow control their weeklong dumpster diving with indemnity. A careful thrush releases its wings to the concept if not the provocation of flight. Curious to know more of the Bromige oeuvre, one sees that it floats thru the latest season with colourful pragmatism.

The stunt called replying stirs an imp-driven piety. Oh well, congested to process, unveils the sad day.

The day is not sad, however, but David Bromige did die, him writer in boots. The eloquence concerns the dashing stripe of insistence, sorted by name and varied by rank. The New Comma sweats the Old Comma, sentences in a chain...

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