No matter how repeatedly she types, there are new words lodged in the typeface. I hear the different muscle take each stretch her voice sings from the keyboard. Who needs evidence as a result of atmosphere in motion through the untouched streets and leafage? When it rains, we dramatize a prior poverty. Some people rhyme to help remember what won't match the current day no matter what. A couple walked through instances of time unspent, compared brief notes, and tossed the consonants away. Form trespasses on an otherwise still continent of vowel tones. Limitless skies and children still impose unwanted features on a breath of fresh unfamiliarity. "Fam tours" would be given to young aliens, that they might limber mindset to guide tourists toward a land where people had made plans. Some oceanfront disturbance that would sound in 4/4 time was thought to be a respite. You could hardly hear the person who "came with" begin a tale. Thus, loneliness ensued, just like old times, the week before. One hesitates to mention truth, lest stories be made rote. One's handedness evoked another form of repetition, lazy afternoons filled with vocabulary broken into parts. A documentary well suited to forthcoming insights would be welcomed.
Noticeable seasons between seasons already known, one interval or two
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