Friday, December 26, 2008
Follow the rhythm of the Fingers
When sneaking is something semblance.
Sounded somewhat similar to hibernation to herds.
Soul within fossilization scope wishes for jamboree on a calming evening with people of strange prinks. Grubs were fed to the glutton tummy of a grizzly bear.

For the record, very first Friday I've spend fully physically, in own crib.
Colourful pens faithfully danced to the rhythm of my fingers. Gladly with a little smirk, I know (I know very well), I won't stop just yet.
Clearly, every other thing is still left unwritten. Misty misty visuals came balling over even right before these cornea.
I wish it's gone, all gone by year ahead.
toodles ++
Signing off @ 6:39:00 pm |
0 Eaters
