Imagine that the sky exists beyond the clever stories and stuffed gods. Such a crazy tale, attached to what? For truly this is not such a one as may be easily written down. Words seem opulently crammed and then you speak a framed Greek zero. Atop nothing sits nothing. Ovid, everyone's classical friend, drew this whole picture in rapid words. Like, life is a nothing till it arrives there, which is here stretched. Sky has clouds and weather but never really starts. It just is and isn't. Sky fills time with a passing cloud that remembers rain. Attic shuffle made rain fall from the sky, a god put in charge. The sky of very sky sorts time sequences. The first always will be 'first' if time really just makes a puddle. Here is when then was, but that's not now. The sky still insists on being sky, maugre the gods in passing. Presiding in this class action suit, contrive your moaning president as passing effect, a wormy metallic timepiece of little use.
Walking is not walking if Gertrude chooses not to walk. The premise: Gertrude Stein is not walking. She may be on a boat, not walking, crossing the wide ocean sea. Leaving inevitable France but not walking. Dramatic but not walking. Sentenced but not walking. There were days of walking but not this day. Reading or just looking but not walking.There were sentences full of walking but not walking. Talking maybe but not walking in or out. A time lived and walking was done then if not now. It was a doing and it was a done. Not forgetting Alice who may have had walking done or even doing. The annals say Leo Stein walked along, up to and including the degree of not walking, along. Those flower names walked along, Matisse, Picasso, Laurencin, in varieties. An adding war or two closed or opened anything jump. Apollinaire in the historical. Languages of shapes and sizes bounding for just the time and a little beyond. And that was the how sentence. In that time but also forward until readi...
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