First rootings sounds invariably like some
lover in for rooting or perching cosily
while a cad will digress into dire conventions.
Do I question the work that goes into your
poses? Do sad icons kneel or debt the
firmament? Come here deities,
and see how rich I am! Etiologically loco,
the chalet's shiny entry can love us more
than an odd Assyrian ossuary with its
itchy chimes of volant contrasts hung within
an igloo monsteria of avant-ravioli; can God
not nonce the deity? Can this voice not rotate
easily within the supernovi of dilettantes as
Pulcinello, the director of noisy house peccaries.
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Irrony Observes The Earthing.