Motor of snow on ageless ground. Heft makes factions. How snow the weight is, in winter verity. But are you only about dead silent? The voice Of fabliau Like ripest Orogeny. Pines embrace wind movement and voice. Squirrel swing thru the time peace ready to live and die. Roadways only suggest direction. Bulbs huddle complete in the soil and nuance. Hold on, a match or idea embarks as day. Sentiment fills memory. Come on now, allow the forgetting.
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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