It’s 3 a.m., the doorbell rings and you wake up. Unexpected visitors! It’s your parents and they are here for breakfast. You have strawberry jam, honey, wine, bread and cheese. What is the first thing you open?
With potent flowery words speak I of something common, vulgar, dry; I weave webs of pedantic prose in effort to befuddle those who think I while time away in lofty things above all day, the common kind that linger where …
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