Voicing sly resolution and return with gracious intensity, the loon practices where space is. It breeds in downtown north total expanse, with and without qualifying bids. The best voice slides across lake and loon dunks in water too. Smart topic sentences arise on the entrance of space while place names disappear. You should read the words. Loons travel for north but remain right here. Imagine the curiosity (if you can). By yodelling loons claim territory, which you cannot do to any useful effect. Also by circling they map their mote of earth. Gavia immer, northern diver, is the god you think you want to think you always want to need. You may be right.
The work becomes chiding of sunlight. The work is elegy and shaded. The principle ciphers as a god, in the way transience is purpose. Transience works this brief, ending fields, making trees concern. The hell of halting midway identifies the work of burning thru. Forever makes a sign. Sign makes worthy. Indeed the tramp of feet forward concludes any sentences but suggests more. Long sentences, stupid words. The caroling heard by Dante, brilliantine remorse for a better tide. The long road up from down, and turned around. The work then becomes the work now, as stained glass similitude. Anxious in the class structure of catastrophe, the baying song over all. Nothing to do but be done. Ruskin gave you papers to remind you. Slow battering concedes the earth in time. Time being functional and oblique. The worker inside sees the nation by exhalation. Transitive connection sports of culture. The class that ends becomes the class that begins, both left and right.
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