W H O L L Y T E X T S

 

MINA IS OF MY LESSNESS AND LOIN

The shifting sands on the white tablecloth insist upon death and
destructive cat toe-jammies. This is pure and utter Uffal! I love the Japanese! Are you getting strange, Mina? Atomize the last molecules
in the dense void of your enamoured music. Sing your raised follicle!
We will float around verily in the Soul Crystal, my Mina. Baby, baby!

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