
I miss it.
(Edit: I cannot stop laughing at the voices)
(Edit Edit:New Lily Allennnnnn. Less happy, more whoomp-wheeerp.)
Penelope Cholmondely raised her azure eyes from the crabbed scenario. She meandered among the congeries of her memoirs. There was the Kinetic Algernon, a choleric artificer of icons and triptychs, who wanted to write a trilogy. For years she had stifled her risibilities with dour moods. His asthma caused him to sough like the zephyrs among the tamarack.
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