Swans are stately, graceful, and sizable avian targets for rocks tossed by children of all ages. They are mystical birds that mate forever and are especially adapted to being chased by dogs. You probably know that implications are everywhere, even when the world is small. We cannot help being a part and apart, while you watch the weighty swan whiteness gliding on the water. Swans rank as the fastest of waterfowl both on water and in the air. Swans make good symbols. Real swan has a place. As a reader predictably reading this you may see symbols in many lights. Sometimes a swan is just a cigar, and the cigar is just that faraway look. A swan as all Swan remains in the sky, on the water, even walking upon the planetary range. You can see this, you can see this. The death of stars means nothing in the cool breeze of today's morning. Nothing is a swan.
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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