Wednesday, February 01, 2006

unlisted number

Maybe the rain came too late. Everything does not look like a mirror in the frost anymore. Gnomes cannot define the sanctity of garbage in the midst of volume. Take those trinkets and shout the word of the peasant before the sun melts into the cone.
Ah! Those who cannot or will not believe that raisins can fly may just be right after all. Use blankets as needed.


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