Oh, the rains. The weather that tames and then saturates the flickered complacence. Fate is not your friend, daughters and sons. You are not safe, yet.
Yes, i'm too slow.
It was a surprise that we forgot, being caught just short of the edge, an old run through the rye that you have inherited. Each over their shrinking flock. Oh, the rains.
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Yes, for a change, I focussed on the simplest, least philosophical part of a post.
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How are things in Florida?
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