When you're beginning. And spill out the paints. While they're still warm and while they're bright lipstick red.
Before it's been licked off. And before it has sat down on its bottom. To become proper. Classical.
№ thing but paint. To just dip all one's finger in it. And lick them, one after another.
I said to myself - I can't sleep with that cat. Because it stepped into the milk with all its feet.
And I quieted down for 7. ±. And walked in ¾. After that I was at a great red. > of π. Always more than ever.
The only thing I didn't stop in passing was a regular refrain: well you put your mother-of pearl needle on the hat.
And the little foxes round your neck and run outside to get warm.
I had to collect the bottles +++. Of the pine turpentine. The packing is sure to become dearer. That too.
And so am I. To myself. Because I'm becoming equivalent - from the Latin aequus - equal and valens, valentes,
having strength, value, significance. That's what it says in a dictionary. And in another one.
And it says more. About manners. And about social mobility. Reflection. Moral assessment. Impaired perception.
But I prefer about the moon. And about some islands. The size of a football pitch. And some larger ones.
As well as the largest. And about the Paris-Dakar Rally. Until it finishes I'm 1/2. Then I'm light. And red.
Like the jam on your fingers. And on mine too. The longest once I must walk on, on them only.
With that candy cockerel. That has no end. ±.
While, otherwise, an antibody remains the most positive. Only Chan Bi has been more positive.
But when the feedback become positive, then I feel like a generator. Doesn't anyone here think as I do?
..Operation 'Desertstorm' weckte mich auch gestern durstig auf