The day isn’t going as planned because I’m not planning days anymore, I’m not planning anything for that matter. I don’t have to, its pre planned. It was this way since the beginning, just got a bit hard to see for some time. The incredible personalities all across the world work as a role model for many, for some despite challenges, for some when in doubt, for some all the time. That’s there role, to follow and to understand is ours. The grown men! The old, bearded, not so friendly or too friendly all at the same time, been through a lot, smiling still, grown men!
There are a million around the world who are incredibly talented and still running astray looking for work. That’s a thing of the past, ‘ve come up with a scheme now, a plan to stay still. Its not going to make any money but it’s not what I want to do.
All things considered, its getting crowded, it was crowded and it’s going to be because crowd isn’t made from things, its made from overload. Adding two plus five together isn’t a joke but as long as it stays within bounds, we’re all very tensed. Once it reaches over and grabs for the worse, we’re purified. That’s why the Moose ran across from the lake, it was looking for the tree, the hut inside the tree that had moles. They were sitting across from each other to find out about the puzzle and why it was created? The lamb added to it, he ran towards the moles in a startling manner and fumbled when he told them the plot behind the puzzle. The culprit wasn’t the eagle, it was the kangaroo who stepped over, it wasn’t even the elephant who ran for the whale, it was the banyan tree where he resides. It was the darkness in which he lies, it was the dense forest in which he luks from branch to twig and back, all in an effort to solve the mystery of the puzzle. He’s still on his way to raid the next lions best because he’s the Machine but some know him as the precarious floozy or fro. The prose in the paragraph isn’t the verse we’ve all been singing, its the song we’ve been humming, its the wind we’ve been feeling, its the warm in the night, its the benefit of the smite, its the spend from the loot the crab from his boot went all across the town to let his hair drown in a pot full of gold with some fragrance in the rose, the pollutant in the pull and the gentle angry purr! Its the windy empty prune with a tasteless bafoon and a global rocking chair with a lot of ampere, a local hair salon with some hair in the dune, the ambidextrous vibe of the culturally impoverished child.
thouwriter 