Imaginarians in paradise need not imagine anymore unless they dream of the less ideal or wish for ventures through another door.
Brushing fingers are slightest waves that set mind’s peace adrift; thoughts empty of honks and cries and those who hurt and grift.
Not quite an aplustre is red thong of derrière, but equally drawn to follow it with awe leads some to places novel and rare.
Divertissement to the north seems like a sunny place to head. Laters are for other cardinals and the wonders they present instead. ; )
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