Unintentional joy

Let me clarify a detail first hand. I have not read the book. Nevertheless. It is one monumental piece of contemporary literature. Like pebbles in one's brain, perhaps you would be overwhelmed by a sense of loss. Insinuating words creep into your eyelids as you progress through the pages. Fundamentally structured information you complained, boosted by overconfidence following a compass for moral excellence. A crummy idea you said. Underappreciated lines is the plain truth. That is that. Brimful of relaxation and enjoyment you were first fixed. Uncoiled.

Awkwardly

a stoic silence invaded the spirit and the space for etiquette. Elegant wooden yachts pervail in sins of flickering flames. All in vain.!

Unviweable

Radically narrowing the field. He cried for Moloch. Assyrian demons attendend in dark suits. Drooling. Signs of progress unveiled. But you did not show. Nor did you helped in any sense.

Curb your enthusiasm

Needless to say. It was not a romantic Arthurian streak. Just a small inlet. Almost like a snail. Nevertheless. People are waiting.

Stumbling across shadows of joy

I saw madness multiplied in the perfect pitch. Gawping at fantastic creatures complete horlicks. There’s a mesh of reasons why this is the case. But you have not. Not yet.

White noise in supermarket shelves

there is basically nothing wrong with the occasional collection of Monday's sandwiches. Artefacts are just so. They never prune. Still. You have not helped insofar.

A good deed

early in the morning helps you to feel better. Help your fellow writer and your soul will experience a multitude of gratifying pleasures.