note black people like scullion and detour. white people seem to tip, as provocation or provenance. yellow people remain arctic residue, like cousins of temperate sun. red people soon filter forest or stones. brown people assume torsion, and we begin to see sliding treble to fine noise. exact people slurp and buy highways. rivers fill with exultant patterns, green people, orange people, purple as profound. red reasonably assumes green anyway. colours sound ridiculous when you think of pandas. stopping before going usually works tho humans no more ready. within the trees, after all, the staple of trees. the sun fills with words, as if that could matter.
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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