churchclose clinked Steploajazzyma Sunday, Sola, with pawns, prelates and pookas pelotting in her boyblue’s long black with orange blossoming weeper’s veil) for she could have transformed this deaf and gloomy place into a dead war- rior’s telemac, with a flick flask fleckflinging its pixylighting pacts’ huemeramybows, picking here, pecking there, pussypussy plunderpussy. But it’s quite on the vellum he blundered over was an aisling vision more gorgeous than the one in his seachest for to renumber all the soorts of 326 smukklers he would break the porkbarrel seal. No wonder Miss Dotsh took to veils and she