I teach those classes: Connecting on Another Level,
Returning to Pole Dancing, Being Strong and Sexy.
Be smart. Eat a longer life. Today’s forecast: spring,
my bold lip color. Plants will be in everything,
everywhere, sparing the planet in just one jungle.
Say hello to Mama. I want—but I still want.

We get it. Some things are evil in real life.
Actually, we laughed really hard about it
in the cult. The real magic is undeniable:
evil and blood, a broken monster of food.
For your career, you get to make cakes,
swim in the future resin lakes, the skin.
Which goes further? A hummingbird, or
1 large egg, chilled from the inside out?

Cut back your bubbles, coaxing out their bitter
drizzle with a hammer of California. Simple
has changed. Don’t shun dried fruit intentionally.
You couldn’t ever love your family. Why? You’ve
done the right things, along with sweet wine.

After four months of unexplained travels in NYC,
it throws everyone off course when the cozy perfect
sweater is below the unplanned sleep of love, a top
starfish that experiences a wild hit of city culture,
a more meaningful convent of waves. Like kayaks?
You can connect with a beehive, stand in the lobby
of this chic hotel, convert waste into a butterfly,
grab the bison in the center of our hand, absorb it.







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Also, the past couple of days, I experimented with a new block feature that I thought might help in cases where I have long lines. Well, yes and no. It did accommodate them, but with a weird slider bar, and everything was suddenly in Courier or something like that. I could probably play around with it further, but who has the time? For now, I think I’ll go back to normal and maybe reserve the block thing for when lines get broken in ways I don’t like.

Break a boundary battle, the ripple of a plateau
past my shoulders, instantly easier in a matter of seconds.
Cut. Start fresh—expect a year like a fish’s scales, further assaults.
Look for a repair. Stop eating properly. The loss may occur,
wrapping around you like a fabric, a soft, tight silk.

Read on for our waterless average of water

a product that hydrates the area,
organic lubricant

fermented sugar,
the sweat glands of

a waterfall

Pure formula, formulated without experience,
the source of heated oil, murumuru butter foot,
balanced and happy, this new mom. So excited
that I can wear what is neutral, hover over this
night. Trail to tavern, a women-specific terrain,
light on a weave of pavement, like running on a
body. Which can be confusing. Define it! Not yet.

All those things just make you feel
excited. They just keep getting better,
as vibrant as the edges of fire. Warm
folly, everything in place, rock the lakes
with romance in spring. Tart beauties
like double-lemon scones, the secret
juice, strawberry and orange, the egg
on a sheet. Beware shots in the AM,
the other side of this battle bursting.

Farming was like the best thing I’ve ever done,
she explains. I like to say I am enough. When I see
our field, more wildlife, it’s a deep connection.
I’m part of this planet, people around the world.

Crunchy veggies help us grow bitter.
We know the person.

She’s got it all under control, the adventures,
her own broken past, a good story by your name.
Jean, I’ll go to the spa. The stress—the way you are
picked apart. Having hot water and lemon before bed.

The dust contains these chemicals.
Get rid of looser progress in your wallet.
Perfect. You can live it up, fighter. Visit
Central Park, Kimberly. Be creative with
little baby ribs, a handful of the other
hand. Bite into persuasion, savor your
M&M’s. The food is worth it, love.