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In the Warmth of Jumpiness

That place next to calling cards, it remains ideal for the remembrance of rivulets. Each sky in memory reacts to certain facts. Your life as a barometre.

Today is an exclusive reference point, and you will drink coffee. When coffee is invented, everyone will dance. Today is National Beyoncė.

Possible language blusters and fit clouds seem partial. The coffee flavour of calling cards strives for best rivulet. Indications refer to place names, which only appear at night.

Our love for National Beyoncé points toward a western moon of running fever. Conditional cats still curl up, with politic calling cards. This is a nation of pants.

There have not been such smooth jumpiness since the eminent spells of Ringo. Report charm to your superiours. Bruce Andrews has a tan.

Meanwhile,

the wainscotting seeks approval. Violins full of sestinas mock the barometre. The sun smells like parting gift. Luckily the calling cards remain sincere. They bond with feature coffee.

The rectangular pantsuit slash lesiure suit will parse and hide all danger. Today is a Wednesday or so.

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