An unforgiving sense, perhaps nothing too lightly; they march forward, crap-tuned and aqueduction popes, noses rise rose-tipped, django in the wind. Forgivible derisions, ferried like cakes, don'tcha würry it too too too much and some, they're coming.
Left with a choice, I just kinda shrugged. The weather was better, no's and yes', looking good, real good in a combinenginedrama. And what better. If in faith alone-- scandalous habit for a half-Swede-- to resume activities clothed in pleasing what-if's and why-not's versus the simple befuggery this shipwrecked month has laid to bear. Bad vest. No in's. Rest and teasie--- nononono.
He was right all along, ol' hüs.
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