Sleeping Lions

Never wake a sleeping creature, as is courtesy of the kingdom. A snoring octopus wouldn’t feel too kindly and would be quick to torture slowly which ever morsel woke the ink-sparing giant lowly. Though he is probably less likely to act outrageously as we’ve all seen many the unhappy saber-tooth poised to attack. Nostrils flared and Ears pricked peace suddenly vacating the vacuum of the detention. Boy hand grenade overflowing with confusion as the crash of fists on his table throws his reflexes into overdrive. Quickly recomposed he groans and proceeds to scribble notes drawing the humble abode from his imagination. A nation free of injustice, misfortune and no constriction of will.

The nagging reality that heightens connection from paper to inflexion, the maps definitely a mirrored reflection of next weeks deception mumbling quietly in view. The due paper missed, the false elasticity in your bandwidth, is there anyone alive not harmed from an intermittent deflection. Their moment to catch what can’t be caught, to learn what can’t be taught, the importance of intelligence holds no relevance that is counted upon. Ask a different question, you will get a different remark.

“I’m not even supposed to be here!” Hugh angrily muttered in a hard done by fashion.

“No one is supposed to be here.” said a stern teachers voice from the front.

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