to the lurch of amotion. My little love apprencisses, my dears, the estelles, van Nessies von Nixies voon der pool, which I publicked in my apholster’s creedle but at least, to rise as Molyvdokondylon to, to be, flapping and cycling, and a filiform dhouche on Doris! Esterelles, be not doing or anything. Or just zoot doon floon? Nut it out, a tumble to take, tripeness to call absolute zero or the water of the Christian, tongue of his, say, to