The jolting of the road. The dust. The sweat. The ladies in conversation.

Break your thumbs for you.

Thats your option.

Take a walk.

Snowflakes, by echoes, by tumbleweed.

Right in the mouth with a four-by-four.

His basket bulging.

I know that.

Hunger for perfection indomitable spirit reminds me of Lord Baden-Powell at times.

I know that.

Was there a message?

Buzzing in the right ball.

Sometimes forgets and uses too many teeth.

Pop one of these. Make you feel better.

What is the motivation?

I was suspicious of him from the first.

At the launching of his now rapidly fading career.

And in the poorest houses nuts are roasted and sweet brans.

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