Simple Theories

The wind of the final continent blows open the porch door. The oddity of porches suffices in ventricle pause. A gust up the highpoint of spring, then honest flood scope from newly revived river gods fits the inherited process. Goddesses align with non-goddesses in politic credence. We are talking about so many things at once. The final continent scored a big one, which made a great lesson for the 3 rd graders trapped in conditional response. The 4 th graders felt shirty. 5 th graders were almost rare in the gleam of their imposed glister. 6 th graders traded a point on the map for a numeral in the appropriate column. 7 th , 8 th , and 9 th grade are exactly the same. Bring on the taxidermists! 10 th grade means minimalist. 11 th grade consoles the plaque left by the class of never after. 12 th grade becomes the final porch before the final continent. And so you were saying that the excellent death of the roused ingrate constitutes a plorable fence for further non-discus...

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 ...