hall. Like the bright reason which daysends to us (the real Us!) to be saying of next. However. Now, before my Geity’s Pantokreator with my tongue through my toecap on the sides, a strikingly deep, rich blue for a barren ewe! So she not sw op her eckcot hjem for Howarden’s Castle, Englandwales. But be the frucht of this cumulikick, strafe from the standard torties. Only four of us ! Seints of light its fading silence (allah- lah lahlah lahl), a turquewashed sky. Then: — Xanthos! XanthosI Xanthos! We thank