Distortions enclosures collapsing on top, moving upright in the folders continually baked in collusion. Fiery cannons spew outward, into salary pendents and melting bins. It brings about forward thinking, these directions have no course of righteous indignation. Does this need a do over, a blank page filled with fibrous timbers. Numbers need no introduction, to the world of cantankerous feeblest. You stand for the binge, and wait for the sinner to contemplate a crossing of the brigades. I know this is shorter than you expected, I realize this is thinner than you made it out to be. For it is not in truth that you retreat, but a fatal repose that you make earnest gain from this.
Contributor- Chris Ballenger