I left the house with a long cloak floating over my head and my nose several metres long. My companion (who eschewed the metric system) had ears many yards long and a coat made from the impression of a Devonian seed fern on soft shale. We went over and under the bridge and met the lake size mouth near the river. He stayed in a basket borrowed from Moses while I returned home via the bypass of the bypass. When I finally got in June was getting ready to go out; she put on a garden fence instead of a coat and we stayed together for the length of a smile. I then took my legs and arms upstairs to work again. As the anthropomorphic door sighed I painted a single flower in a large field and then dedicated it to a long forgotten memory.
My Diary: Fingers Of Fire Put Out By Touch
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