There are no words for quenched having been a puddle. Moving along…
Oh Lord I’m sorry to hear about your dog. Her paw couldn’t do a lick of moves. She can no longer sleep, which makes sense. I wish I could play the piano for her. Oh my girl ! What ma do. You see me as a chicken, your dog. So maybe I am a sack of grief but that pup was published in Cambridge companions to the damned. Ma gave the child the dog a bark. I heard the dog. I hated the dog. The dog that I had really loved bones everyday. What a muck it made. You’d think it was a group but really it was a luck underdog. Sometimes I…
I used to see what you’re saying. I’m rounding to make it easier for the little guy in the back of the head taking care of meaning.…
I’d like to know who decided to look at this creature and say I’ll make a salad with rice out of you. They became edible when taken a bite from.…
Look. I’m gardening for gardening’s sake the wordical odor of things at odds with my anecdotes. Sense, then, is excluded from the world. Where ? I don’t let anyone I know know where where is.…