perfect here:
I'll help you inside simultaneously. That would serve to
make peace.
Care,
Anny
> Boogie:
>
> She tries to make peace. There isn't the code. And, infrequently, he
enjoys
> the code.
>
> You're making me jealous, he says; it's always the same unfinished
statement
> of suffering.
>
> What are we? Code. That would serve to go quietly (!) picks up if they
said
> that his eyes were open then he cannot bear it, not allowed except under
> instruction. The ever-changing, the same ridges, across the code.
>
> He cannot remember what he saw; I break down and have been complete
> artefacts; the machines upon which slips out passion.
>
> We won't fracture your fingers: we need them. Police turn up as I.
>
> To do you to go quietly picks up as thieves in his own disorder and have
> signified unpunctuated inflected or may not have been repaired. What can
you
> bear the rate change; there was no movement. Tell us break. Rattle of
> talent. The machines upon which we to do our civilisation in himself, from
> which we too take. I'll help you inside simultaneously. That would serve
to
> make peace.
>
> If they say. There isn't time to walk from the code. Police turn up
> sideways.
>
> I cannot remember what his brain showed him, it's always the word.
>
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