She’s been inevitable about herself sans her favourite best findings again (..) Even been breaking her made up face into an utter unstoppable smile called “Why(??)” weren’t we —- EVEN asking about the way it went in a row and rushed back to that place of
Delicate Dostoyevskian necessities. Let’s face the bruised egos and prance like lying mocking birds with CHRISTMAS TIME minced pies in their eyes and bulging bellies big enough
To set fire to the surface of the sunSH!NE, and then some… . Why weren’t we making UP inevitable mistakes when everything else had to be perfectly spectacular actually? And why on earth was it supposed to beleaguer itself like tasteful crazy as soon as they entered in at the edge of naked-faced delirium?
