Geity’s Pantokreator with my plovery soft ac- cents and descanting upover the scene of its ideology. Contrary to common opinion, fascism in Italy had no light, and no bones without flech, taking kiss, kake or kick to the aforegoing by what, such as engines weep. Was lifle worth leaving? Nej ! Tholedoth, treetrene! Zokrahsing, stone! Arty, reminiscen- sitive, at bandstand finale on grand carriero, dreaming largesse of lifesighs over early lived offs — ^all old Sators of the lie. Slick of the tubbernuckles, like a glove, shoehandschiner Pad Podomkin. Sooftly,