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Sisters superfan since 1990.

50 words, eh? Ok, well, let's see here...

White feathers in the snow, the Gulf claims, And an old man driven by the Trades To a sleepy corner.

                                  Tenants of the house, 

Thoughts of a dry brain in a dry season.


Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.