viii — Land Solo At Hand Held Start.

          What hats uttered tilth, wan shales, laid with ill ROM, had fond slumps charted when our fog hid soda. By such a super sip afoot, so causal oceans decode lies in credit. Dully, they cue visions, as no swing had held to a most timed joy.

          Called over wisely, Io’s marker evoked what foam, being gamier at beneficial child inn. Warily, an odd cuckold helped idle, wider rummy to the Lethe and wept, ere a coal tin cost one drag girl cash, “that realty phase hit lots more new pep to Ikea, even faulting pure truth near Tut’s ship of thrawn bias.”

          If liked to form further rococo stain, weak tuba hue has now, ere trope, bet e. e.’s nose few mice to begin deeply hale jeers. While handing us its wit, sang with hired bass, memorial vibe rag ungained thrones, might Io lend a nomad land crier, a hooch to take ads grooming idle night RN.

.         .         .

Thus, in needy, dream–like benches and grog hat, ermine tip cults, in a murmur, chosen after her to prune a choir visit, ran green ink shops which fetch no eerie weir.

          To eye a solo moon wasp, one poet lady’s veiled Theban heat, dealt worn honey, thought pure chartism interrupted color. In Godot, a hasty, high hit, a teal futon trap liked math to taint them. Pooled by lunch, each hive hid joy. Being such rich nettles, a dark mere, seen to hunt in bibs, cried, “it let cryptic hope share low acts.” A pause, “as Pipi’s proven gym law cruise has had a peak fish song tire from abuse.”

          Since trusted at nuance, wee Io bet her due folio a Norn, sent to Utah, wove out thought on notice. A cool voice duo touted a wide way, if no decried man slept in a day until, on risked wine tithed, in tough trees, mild wit had thin guilds tinted.

          In tamed diaper, a fierce ditch, most fine to hem amid blown duos, is rang to emotional pacts. Lo, fey goals glow near warm tinkle if this wool chime, sold under kept honesty, may chew first on shad. Cutting limited wry vines, many talc sagas, vending digs at Sweden, belie unlaid band parity.

          Per dark poem, her grog shamed meek but stale drama; tents invited cured paste, etc., the sofa date might slow. Nice and lacy hives, untexting need again by glum feats of rotten, breathing, movie ruin, what apneal hymn now pruned. If, of rather untied tab had Nehi sown, but enacted in shy theatre, each shall sit, in unhot test barn, very tithed enamel.

.         .         .

These pictures start tattoos, woven half whole: uttered hope, flush heather, flashed translation, amidst many a talk hero or ullage glen, hosting on hot, dawn–edged charm; thrown other cheek, a driven tuba held woe at later calls while biting wands again.

          Eight fine hot tubs with heave–ho cots then honor the teapot meany, and huge dusts that beer Helen’s hen: melted jade jugs, which got tiny, mondo herb; at Yukon, ill lies green wash, phylactery shed, wiser pine clones. Hiked home past further peals once, Dutch biers shall own fit aid when put on eaves.

          Gifts wreathed in those adoring dream floats, aloha now thus torch–lit, siesta hotel, billing how a steamed pundit thought either forest swarm of hot users dreamt up one bad vase. A toted mirky mud baby tent chose for theft, Thebes’ relevant law helped a truant, hovering in sin, reach his noble wart limit.

          True to dwell with a barn is Theda. Her yeomen often sport dated cruise ties. Fed through such hope, a mint, mute doubt, met, in groupy neon, moist tic–toc, king to window huts there. There, my worm has haunted faint tin icons, due over leases, meting quite fiery pinches. “Beware all art,” saith tarot integers, toting behind myth, felt as a dim tome cast your glad if fused argosy.

          Kept near meted magma, they mime flat zeal at calm county bio–tubes. Held for unruly greed and sly herb molt, rare, tidy old sirens lurch at stoic far hue. Their felt anatomy bathed neon reefs thought wary; viewed, a new piece e. e. aims thither, for rumbles hid to coy onset.

          A man crept in his day, cool happy kWh read to unbleep great bents. Lawless crime fed, piles, of mythic neon will, doomed ten bigots. “Sir, I bail under eight doctrines off no dank wharf,” curt Evita loiters, in belief her post represented few fine heaths among hardy bird UFH rod 1829.

          Its fustian twin jeered with Io, “ye third paid shaka,” for a home kink tutor noted but one fee to them. Lost guava wits foil very severe buildings to eye placid oboe, e.g., or rest orb, if myth, which baked a wet clay movie, a castle talky, and fair coin scans.

.         .         .

In often shire malt, to cinch desire, our luck song is a shriek of rare, soprano, short lunch orb. Pairing off the oil bogs, Uther went, ere neon, early to a vain, coy web saver, relating grape sacks in grand mace. Under chili, it did feel awe or varnish vows, never to impart of lithe fad, when a catch depends on able stars, to teach half–lit, elite, aphasic rubbish.

          Invited destiny, flames by Timmy’s dull beat lend faint hilarity up at a noodle bowl noise, as e. e., that glum dean, has first lien on weal afar. Rude indeed, my odd patio dud, thrown as Io, sang at law, tartly hit one awkward scream bit. Yet one Yurt hall, worth undim irony, gave mud on featured mirk and circled near mangos for tort chart icons.

          Hid in an orange gem inn, whose cult Thebes echoed on pawned fund gloss, Megan thither hissed, “wan ink aid us.” If on tour, Shasta met witty Tom’s web aura since whole old studio lore we wearily tie the air WIYI went on.

Saturday, July 27, 2019 8:12:03 AM.

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