Little Deaths, bright lights... and other paragraphs.

Man-Alive! Have i really gone to those lengths to intuit life from observation? First, take the illumination of a second rate heaven where imagination starts a reality like that which you forget sometimes. Then add onto that the signature familiar to a turnaround event so little that rhymes forego conventions which are such that freedom won't blame you, who gives nature a chance. This event will seem over wrought with some act that is so funny, so utterly hilarious that men will prepare, and having prepared, prepared utility here on the ground, which will eventually seem literal. But having checked the horror of the omen there is also here a very severe and ruminous affray. Whatever. There are three more general rules to keep in mind as we examine the tracks of our ruminations. One, to be redeemed by the sayer for transaction that is breathing but still like a battery to have and remember. I must remember to call our machinery an adamantly broken horror so horibbly horrific that if i think of nature as the secret to fatality which literally is the courage and dignity, morality and karma, being as zen as the morning crow with sorts of imagination. Imagination to make much of the culture of the country. Funnily enough the horse has not even yet been used. Ah ha! but what is the horse? Is it racing or is it feeding? It is just a sign that nearly agitates imagining the climates we find when the versions are loving their bodies. There, chasing the wrong pathway we make a decision that references horses. Two, you have in truth to sink in the sand, sense the amplitude of the coeffeicient, and be free enough to find visions touched upon by tearing in two the deliberate search for issue that you found, and cautiously (and usually) correcting that sensational scenes have gone off on one. The right thing is important but i think we very rightly should think of things. This is a given; a slightly misgiven dream, but nevertheless i thought you should know. Three, and this is a third three, we have gone and i should run like a stream because the imagination is taken with you. And you will be jousted by your son's intuition because he is too deep for the brotherhood, and can't be effaced by the foreigner you are. At this point you would express agreement on the tarpaulins for covering the marquee, i mean, for our wedding and i, well, yes i have a friend, lets say, who goes out and has fun, you could say, comes home and sleeps, and sleeping begins dreaming of whiskey-trees all about the manner in the night and specific chances to all finding the friend so content and happy that it doesn't really matter that the thrones of the such-and-such tribunes, that and you're immune to agreeing upon the one fact: we're actually young through our whole lives, but we think we're old, so that compensates, and euphorically. But what do I know?

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