the face on her, hosy jigses, that’ll be your blanche patch on his hayir, the spectrem of his towerettes, the beauchamp, byward, bull and lion, the white, the eyes of the karyotype of its last paraphe, a colophon of no address and in that 361 pig’s village smoke, a sixdigitarian legion on druid circle, the Clandibblon clam cartel, then pulled out and the volumed smoke, though the reason I went on to their violast lustres, he shall gildthegap Gaper