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Peter Pearson.
The shell cracked. I emerged. How it will end is anyone’s guess.
Peter Pearson.
Stab stab stabby stab stability stab.
You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension—a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You’re moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas.
I will no longer be doing. I will don’t.
Positive denial.
Bucket list item achieved.
This week on Triple D, things you never put in your mouth…
“We must surmise that it is not of this earth…”
Agreed. The “Sphinx” sentence is the cooler of the two. I’ve been using it for a long time. My personal twist: the last word becomes “vowel,” not “vow.” For me, easier on the ears.
Thanks I hate it.
I haz a value.
Sir, to the best of my knowledge, I’m not on your nuts.
All your knowns are belong to us.
Thank Me very much.
If a bear shits in the woods, is the Pope Catholic? (Equally perplexing question…)
I admire a man who speaks the truth, plainly.
Can’t get them to run on Windows.
Well that’s fine, but I want to know what they were drinking.
Tangled up in Blue.