04.August.24

β€œOy, sir! Your cast are vanishing with the breeze, eloping past the realm of squirrels.”

β€œWill they congregate in a rainy gulch?”

β€œOr, will they merry in a grainy culch?”

β€œPearls of wisdom suggest that unholding loves lost freesβ€”up hope, an olive-juiced oyster.” ; )