whether or not the likeness is abhorrent,

the foreboding flourish plays

the plight of the privileged with that faggy fling to it. islands are still a chain no matter how violent the weather gets between them. out of your neck talking can blast a taxi in half.

they keep devising tougher and tougher noogies. trill surveillance is sickening. the twin tyrannies of time and space Shanghai'd my shambolic, stultifying moral rectitude,

as well as my lackey's. i grew up a cliff or two from there, sleepwalking the hairy edge of stability.