There years were, and as reference, kindly for news. A light in a window one day, clouds in a day with pastures. Shiny instruments paused like roses. We were loved by the time we took. Years of ice and sooner fell in waves before us. You remember, we were kids. We were tried and true, with roses, plummy bright roses. Lights rose from ashes, baskets in a haze. You were tired, I was worse. Plumes of water rose from battered rocks in the edge of something storm. Naturally we remained. Chords on a piano remember tasks of given. Something paused like roses as the green came loose and grand. Someone plays the drums, outright,. As far as dance conditions, and we say our words, the moment rests. Not the beat, of course, but the pasture land between. Holding hands is a careful sentence. Every sentence bounds to further stated. We were kids, and such is as we stay. Piper at dawn shocks my brain. We are kids.
Walking is not walking if Gertrude chooses not to walk. The premise: Gertrude Stein is not walking. She may be on a boat, not walking, crossing the wide ocean sea. Leaving inevitable France but not walking. Dramatic but not walking. Sentenced but not walking. There were days of walking but not this day. Reading or just looking but not walking.There were sentences full of walking but not walking. Talking maybe but not walking in or out. A time lived and walking was done then if not now. It was a doing and it was a done. Not forgetting Alice who may have had walking done or even doing. The annals say Leo Stein walked along, up to and including the degree of not walking, along. Those flower names walked along, Matisse, Picasso, Laurencin, in varieties. An adding war or two closed or opened anything jump. Apollinaire in the historical. Languages of shapes and sizes bounding for just the time and a little beyond. And that was the how sentence. In that time but also forward until readi...
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