Man! I want to savour that: but there's only food with which to do so, and I must face bad planning.
Which is a matter of shops having items or not, as it suits them best.
Packing a sausage requires a sausage packing machine: but it also requires a butcher to know an animal inside out. Thus full knowledge of what's carnal only requires us to be scientific.
Looking at our own nature, reflectively, we find shifting scenes.
Trying to make that kind of picture nice, you've got to pay very close attention to what you're doing. The difference between manslaughter and murder is obvious just as soon as you've worked out exactly and precisely what the fuck we are.
It was really the bread that was on my mind: but I like my sossies. I pronounce that as if a sausage has been cut in half, and I'm describing the ease with which I can speak with my with food in it.
I'm proud of my mispronunciations: it's a way of feeling unique. But those are, with the exception of data, all about colloquial words. If you start making a fuss about the name of the place in which I live, you and I simply need to observe my right to put my tail between my legs and return to it.
So that about sums up why I am now embracing distraction.
Now glancing at what doesn't know how to be anything but, I'll refer you to your maker, and tell you to tell him or her that the pot most fucking certainly can say to the potter, why has thou made me thus.