Quality of Life. Happiness reigning over an 8x8 black and white slab of maple. Conquest until conquered and in the black lands the fish fly like birds of paradise. Sunlight reflecting off shimmering pupils in the dull warm grey of spring. Sand blows in a cylindrical column, though the hands are really quite redundant. As the answer is really quite easy, such as 2+3=4.5, I flip the switch. Beauty turns left then right then left again. Coreander spice makes my mouth water for the phone to ring. Once, twice, disconnected. Realization is like a Pan softly playing his lyre on a floating island of carcasses. So sweet the sound of crashing marbles gliding in a pool of ozone. Retreat unnecessary such like pb and j sticks to your toes making it impossible to reach the moon. Waxing hypothetic, my phase ain't no thing but a dime in a $2 tollbooth. I close my eyes and illuminate the it that I live for. Quintessence modularity forced upon the planar reality.