Save It Here, Please
Yes, we saw the star. It was brilliant, looming on the slope. Everest needs these kinds of experiential doo wah, exciting the temperate in the shadow of mindfulness. Paris Hilton in her yeti clothes came down a brightness we would have moments to share. Our death cannot reason with all apparent notices. Tundra, Excellent English and I are fraught with the terrible quest, which is just a trip down the lane and maybe back. What is our modesty in the face of economic clime? We want our position met as thoroughly as Paris Hilton in her tent of fur. She reminds us, just by staring blankly, that so much more remains to the quiz. Shall we answer with assurance, like taking a beacon from our pack and signaling rescue missions from far and wide? I don't know. We took our quorum together and discussed, but then the snow seemed like time, and the wind bore what seemed a reason for flight. Would we select a chasm into which, and for all time? It scares to think of. Yet trading has been furious, across the board and with all elements of society in the clutches. Wow, and we thought this was just a trick to see maximum in our neighbourhood! Paris Hilton (asterisk available upon request) bears the talk of exactly now or around the bend. Her jet leaves the summit in time for clouds, and it hearkens to the efforts of Tom Cruise, the decision of another mountain. In fact they take the air together, all the breath possible, and meanwhile we three struggle. Is that funny, with a blizzard? They're a nation or two, as means to ending, but we have this whole up-the-mountain-look-around-and-down to deal with. We're heroes in our minds, graduate to that, at least, you spectating presence. As hungry as we are, then here's a yeti just for us. Good lord, not to eat! I mean a yeti with a haversack, loaded for prime mealtime. We are friends because we are national. National Nepal, that is, tho falling into that hollowness. And Tibet, it's made of newspaper now. We saw booming buildings on the latest service of information (that was years ago 'officially'). Some people said (by doing) that the mountain was here, in flames and close enough, so out the window for the memory to resume. We received that, chastely but with effect. Then mountains grew, for all time if not for us. We had to decide, knowing that the machine had other ideas. Ideas are plenty, like a nerve in a finger tho the finger freezes. Is this the way of going on? A plane containing Paris Hilton and Tom Cruise cannot crash. The map says so. So we still live, tho cold like chances under lack of air. Something terrible is a part of anything else, to date, at least. Sherpas thought of pay scale, life abroad or among, then trouble if you seem to note a lack of division. Each world you see is each world, you see. It doesn't matter who remains, after all. Our kings and queens are doormats. Let us thank them just about now, inside the ticket of our moving on
