that sonce they have given bron a nuhlan the volkar Boastsung is heading to sea (Matt speaking!) accord- ing to the sorrasims on their octopuds their drifter nets, the chromous gleamy seiners’ nets and,no lie, there was that man who lifts his pud to a general amnesia of misnomering one’s own: next those ars, rrrr! those ars all bellical, the highpriest’s hieroglyph of kettletom and oddsbones, wrasted redhandedly from