This is that. That of which we speak in fervor. That which can be named, and is named over and over again. This and that. Name it. Be of importance and so on. That's the way forward, at least in my own version of events. That version is not believeable to a larger audience, no, I don't think so.

Plentiful. Pears, apples and mangoes. Going about that day. I say so. Give me break, apple. No, fruits of loom and forward in perpetuity. I write to keep that going and aviod the downs. Understand that.

Nothing new to see here. There is hope of life. There is retribution to append the last piece in a puzzle so excuisite it's barbaric. Nothing to see here.