Reading Ulysses in Montana #587
The monks precipitously divulged the means to absolution and grace beyond her years; although, Kitty found that without any buggy whips to speak of the lemmings could only climb the purple trees of Madagascar and not the bronze terraces of Los Angeles.
Oh, the humidity! The human play goes on whether you contribute a verse or not, so death be not proud, nor life too, although the passing there had worn them really about the old oak tree. A gibbous moon–neither waxing nor waning–gave Kitty three pecks of a hen’s cheek, but whether that would upgrade to guanciale someday, only Vesuvius could say–if anyone would listen. She who has ears to hear, listen to what Vesuvius has to say. Goncharov was a little lax in his caricature, but Oblomov found what suited him and stuck to it to the end of the second act.
Kitty went looking for worn tea kettles, but hair pins were all that remained to keep her company before the Tupperware party really got rocking.
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So erudite but not
Only after the throes.
A typical volcano on any given day
In the evasive eyes of the sons of Pompeii.
Had me at guanciale. Extra good. These are made to read aloud.
I wonder if the tupperware party was a cover up…
Ask Victoria for he’s secret…😉
It seems you have a lot of fun with words! A wordmaster indeed!