See this exquisite Walloon game, a kit-based but brief spelling game. Take this old whiskey to the blond judge who is smoking on his interior island, next to the ovoid alcove, where the logs are burning in the hearth, which allows him to think about the cænogenesis of being discussed in the ambiguous cause heard in Moÿ, in a mess which, he thinks, diminishes here and there the quality of his work. Prove, fair judge, that the famous yak sandwich kills. The cramped island, Where the obese mature jury Celebrates the hai volapük, Donkey tied at whist, Take away this disappointed wish. Old coat that I modify: breitschwanz or yak? From Christmas when a hated zephyr dresses me in Würmian ice cubes, I dine on exquisite roast beef with mature kir à l’aÿ & so on! Fiery, I intoxicate the squaw with a pack of beautiful zythum. Ketch, yawl, brand new junk… judge the prices!
See the giant brig that I am examining near the wharf. Take that old whiskey to the smoking blond judge. Cover the tail of the taxi car with the fakir’s pajamas. Ambiguous voice of a heart which, to the zephyr, prefers bowls of kiwi fruit. My poor stiff zebu shocks your yellow wagon twice. Perch ten, twenty woks. What am I burning there? The moujik equipped with fake breitschwanz travels. Bland Kiwi, Apteryx, what a ham you are wasting! Judge that an old blond pure malt whiskey darkens. Fake kwachas? What a Zambian travel project! Rascal, mix the abject whiskey that drains. Lively judge, soak this blond aqueous whisky. Lively CEO mentor, show off the squaw jockey.
See this exquisite Walloon game, a kit-based but brief spelling game. Take this old whiskey to the blond judge who is smoking on his interior island, next to the ovoid alcove, where the logs are burning in the hearth, which allows him to think about the cænogenesis of being discussed in the ambiguous cause heard in Moÿ, in a mess which, he thinks, diminishes here and there the quality of his work. Prove, fair judge, that the famous yak sandwich kills. The cramped island, Where the obese mature jury Celebrates the hai volapük, Donkey tied at whist, Take away this disappointed wish. Old coat that I modify: breitschwanz or yak? From Christmas when a hated zephyr dresses me in Würmian ice cubes, I dine on exquisite roast beef with mature kir à l’aÿ & so on! Fiery, I intoxicate the squaw with a pack of beautiful zythum. Ketch, yawl, brand new junk… judge the prices!
See the giant brig that I am examining near the wharf. Take that old whiskey to the smoking blond judge. Cover the tail of the taxi car with the fakir’s pajamas. Ambiguous voice of a heart which, to the zephyr, prefers bowls of kiwi fruit. My poor stiff zebu shocks your yellow wagon twice. Perch ten, twenty woks. What am I burning there? The moujik equipped with fake breitschwanz travels. Bland Kiwi, Apteryx, what a ham you are wasting! Judge that an old blond pure malt whiskey darkens. Fake kwachas? What a Zambian travel project! Rascal, mix the abject whiskey that drains. Lively judge, soak this blond aqueous whisky. Lively CEO mentor, show off the squaw jockey.