The wind work depleted any surplus action opening the right brain capitulation. The heat from the stream of the wildfires cooks the salmon while thoughtful words go here. Flaking conjures up fossilizing from a DQ perspective. New age-wise it's a sign that surviving the need to advance $$$ was the lifeblood and now it's just as simple as going with what's right in front of us.

In the Honduras version, the refrain goes like this:
some of us can make a compelling argument that "Goin' home" by 10 years after still holds up. Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson for suppressed gag reflex and solidifying the certitude about brunettes being the Fontaine of youth.

The therapeutic wall of shame stands out as the prevailing view of why the palm d'ors should make the need to wash hands never go away. It never was about anything other than hormonal aggressiveness. I lit a candle and danced to: hoagie yogi yonahey. No more free fallin'