THe gloAming grows finally and Amid sounds, querulous umlauts and diacritical signals. None of this action goes beyond the limits of imaginary. People talk to stillness and stillness nettles while fleece of clouds. And this political climate continues with casual verbs and people who claim to know prepositions. However, no prepositions can exist without willfull deception. Deep wells tell us so. So the mighty exist, as tropes For paradigms. And paradigms exist because someone spoke. The words were in a pool swirling dynamically and extending to sentence. The thought of language starts biscuits a-baking. Propositions poise for pictures. Nature rides natural elastic to the cellar of the trying town. Children remain in vitro till the last very-preposition has rained.
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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