Obviously I come crunching from particular sensitive sky. From the Time When Aged, stood I, more height than average, convex. Sunlight as a tool, and guided. Close to the wind, able saturate, long time words. As monsters plenitude speak I up. The rage of darkness and aghast, invention of future London. Who can tool the most, selecting monsters daily as rife, me that is. Chilled maximum while crow hoka hey the sky. I am better crow, better fox, furthermost shrug. Imagine the surrounding singing, the completed din, the people as printed. Swam a fardel, from passive aggressive flew like a voice past mute sayings. Singing whoa, hoka hey, extra exclamation points pointing to upward. In transit warding for pride and prospect, the needed always. Thunder sword, heap big, and provocative. And my list now entails your small sentence muddy paw. I will, tho, Beowulf. Crying out loud Beowulf.
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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