Working backwards. The swarthy mountaineer. Met in the staffroom. The male angina. The Navarrese drink their Peralta, the Basques their Chacolet. In the Netherlands this Myosotis is often made into a syrup.
Anatomy of the World. You’re putting me on. Fancy meeting you here. The wheel of fortune grinds slowly.
A coated onion then with salt he eats. One among many. Ceres for bread or Ceres for pain.
Who would ask an oyster for its opinion of an onion? Our Spanish colonel would ask his oyster, whom she could have blown away like the peeling of an onion. Like the chain of Icarus.
The ounce is about the bigness of two lusty ram cats. The wave of the future is a walk in the pasture. A feline beast inhabiting the lofty mountain ranges of Central and Southern Asia. She’s busy in a production right now.
The ounce was first noticed by Buffon, who said, “Hooded ounces cling to the driven hind.”
I noticed it next in “The return of the narrator” when Minnie the Moucher said, “Ounce, and hare skins, may serve us at present as well as a king of wood could do.” Like a young artichoke, that always carries pepper and salt in herself. She got tied up in an affair while the rest made out like bandits. Catered by the winning team. You look like dynamite on the big screen. Our thoughts are with you. And the brainpower of all the bishops in Rome. My modem’s got an amazing baud but I forgot why I was here. Oh yes. To re-enact some pagan rituals. Encircle the woods and copses for the pleasure of hunters.
Trick knee. London derriere. Game leg. When the sun is over the yardarm the putter stands on end. Pluto pooped pumice on the poop deck. Swimmer’s ear. A wigwam made of horse feathers. Knocked unconscious. Off kilter.
Guard your wives from the weed called dodder. Tie the knot and score some joints. A flinch of the hips. Shoot your film. The henchmen were well astonied at the news from Nelson, nor could one be made to budge from his wing ding doodle.
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