and lo it was that soaring epic birds and fiery steel girders descended from the sky and there was a great tumult.
it is the end of all life on this back of this paper crane and we are sore.
i fell on.
and now on the grill: burgers and shouts.
it’s a time for drink and a time for us and there is a song and i don’t know who it is for, but i could guess, although it hurts my heart.
but i know that i am right.
and it was permitted, but there were also warning shots and nails to step on and torment to trip over and gerrymandering, whatever that means.
it all made sense.
we wandered delicately through leaves and bare earth whose tusks were tucked under canopies of fruit and fresh summer rain and coffee beans.
terriblest of all time (toat)