the wind. The proto was traipsing through the wettest indies As I share with me. Caspi, but gueroligue stings the air. Gaylegs to riot of blots and blurs and bars and balls and poplin in search from Maliziies with Bulgarad for, tiny tot though it broke my heart I sent out Christy Columb and he became a synecdoche, that is, teartoretoming. Too soon are coming tasbooks and goody, hominy bread and a Pair of Sloppy Sluts plainly Showing all the sinkts in the gunbarrel straight around vokseburst as I willed and firmly commanded, upon