Xenophon as man, as legend, as topic, as effort, as known. He was has was the words last. Ways exist to understand wherein floating Shit Creek memory so, for the years there were. The Persians had internecine straits to resolve. Organize! Attribute! Verbs of constant warlike reminder float like roses. Ask the victims for clarity. Be clear in the little berries of words registering plans and reactions. Till then appease and tired again. Imagine having to listen to Socrates, an historical figment of common stature. Imagine speaking to Cyrus the Younger on a plane of severe angles. Thymochares arrived from Athens with a few ships. It is said the battle hugged the strand.
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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