The god loss Remember the little god who stood up to sleep, strolled across lawns mimicking ducks. They say he beat back books, charged per syllable with

Apples and cheese I wouldn’t make much of a ploughman given I don’t like apples or cheese. In bed I’d unshirt him enjoy all the things and then like beer off a dog’s lip

They are killing all the citizens Mrs Wig She prefers to root cut the spring onions. The chick peas in their little coats que up to cook. Knifing pears she scores the counter

secrets

Poor Inez puts up with a lot...

You might need to know something about yoga

You might need to know something aboutthe 12 steps.