Tuesday, September 30, 2003

it was delicate as the approach of a sentence. it cleared the idea of mentioning dirt to a tree. the tree itself was a parcel, it was calligraphic, it was possible in some mere bog. the people were ready to learn from their distress. this made an engine. the aliens were donated. they couldn't language the moment. their's was a draft of the final. we thought we'd wed the difference. we thought a lot of things. Cambridge grew on a river and slid time pour. we language and then different. it is autumn sun of all. the portion left seemed lambent. we didn't think the word. the aliens seemed adept from the mountain where they looked, an extreme. suddenly marks on the highway. a gasp of Arab nations, of sensitive oil production. could there be a program lending us the difference? the aliens watch. they think narrative has a sentence. there is a post by the road.

Comments: Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?