Priest or door mat, revered minister, perfect rabbi, this sort of thing. Then wanting to know more, and equaling that more with anything, producing an addendum calling for further study, which is an underline process in the wild. So that, viz., paint on something that formerly went unpainted. This inspires diction, the main coast to which we roll on hearty, knowing waves. Political priest, solon, sour taste, all that. The map mentions places but not the peopling. People people the earth, you know. You read that too, while in line, listening to latestness. This outlasts that, and always will.
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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