Louis XVI among Trees, with Marie Antoinette queen, as and In trees and sooner to turn leaves, upon trees the nation, gurgling, even the Robespierre in several books, Danton, Mirabeau, and others, as such and official times, manufacturing history at a drop, the trees normalized by time in trees, furtive matters spoken of in crowded agitation, bearable trees in the sonance of people en masse and projected, dilettantish massage of effort ogling names of other trees, in books lavished in language sharing apoplexy and grime, loose trees, scented trees, participle trees, angled trees, and rivers, rivers light as words, usefully disdainful, projected and prosy, the King, the Queen, the inspired Provacateurs, lit by trees, sensed by trees, impressing nourishing guillotines and wiles, fenced by fencing, seething trees, ocean trees, files of trees, and meanwhile then
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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