Precaluclated endowments of partial consolation consoled the tolerant sojourner across the brittle universe.
Bridges of provisional comfort comforted Joe in his attempt to infiltrate the suspended indignities dignified by the crossing of the one with the other, although he thought there was room for more–or would be if he could squeeze one more situation of habit along the habitual river. Emptied of all fury, the furious cat meowed the anthem of the fragmented republic, though what he would do with it, where he would go with it, only the bankrupt sandwichman understood. Joe took the satchel of understanding and removed the passbook enclosed with foreign fealty and chucked it into the twice-told river of abundant efficiencies. Disenfranchised gout of all nations swelled with pride in unison and brought a choir of patriots to their knees.
Joe took the partial differential of the partial consolation and filled the integral umbrella with Scottish joy.
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The first paragraph had me wanting more
And the last paragraph had you wanting less?
Stopped before then. You know.
Always stop before the last chapter!
Dear Ricky, It’s so thrilling to read your post which renders a new dimension to much talked about but never so well written (like you do) topic! Thank you for liking my post on my five favourites 🥰❤️♥️🍃🌼🌿🐣