Thank you for the red melamine giraffe who says 'elbow' to the claw-footed bath, which is now overflowing with exclamation marks and floating on a kind of snowpea and ham-ear soup which tends to meander into the canal ways of the Atacama Desert in Chile. At a different and un-related, same time, probably in the western hemisphere or further to the left, a doctor of philosophy can't spell aquarium or thick daisy and her grand parent prefers suspension bridges but only because apricots can't fit. And slowly the ergonomicness of clams crosses the mind and, to get to the other side, the chicken, laden with stories about cistern maintenance, also crosses. (But only the biscuit).
T x K*9
jojobee
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