I, on behalf of my inner identity, feels commiseration towards my friend's stray dog.
He, namely Carlo, found his lovely, adorable ( sometimes annoying ) bitch named Dork lying cold infront of their house. It was suspected that someone poisoned it.There was no artifice, no shield in place to keep from seeing the desolation in his face. But then he stood to face his awful despair head-on.
Pause.
Well, it was horribly inappropriate, ghastly, really, but I couldn't help it. He was like telling me. "Mention his departure on your blog, so people feel the agony of my lost." I'd have to laugh.
Actually, my vocabulary blooms like this because I was reading "Wuthering Heights" and "To taste temptation" and felt the urge upon speaking or rather writing the classical, superb to thy emotion language. Well its nearly sarcastic but it felt good. Like I am but an ordinary English folk wearing off shoulder, balloon type, and tight in the tits gown.
To say, I am restive with enormous head coiffured with none. If you get my point, congratulation wasn't enough. Because the sense you're searching was nowhere to be found.
In plain English. Its a Bum.
I wasn't really onto blogging today. I just need it for my friend's sake. You know how it is hard to
:D
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