The sun out there is very warm. You can feel the page, how it matters. Dry typeface, a mild grayglow. Aseat, red right in front, page ahand. The original, the breeze bound, the treatise.
Restive sliding mood. A leavened suspension.
The final plain of Children of Dune. A glowing icon. Typeface, small. A place in wonderland.
Engine pumping. Living all the time. Find the edge. Suffuse.
Summer heat never leave. Never step down, only glance. The air, the smell. They live there, in their unions.
We go here. Each new heat a summons. The origin. The resting place, the original. Messengers warn of an unwind. Catastrophe. A froze still wrapped. But we know. It's not the unity.
We love this man. Our friend--friends. Why do you keep making declines. You know them. They love you. Stay close. Leech. You know the next. A twist and wither; then start again. No more wheels. Embrace the cycle; leave the loops.
