.

Trimmed paper cobbles are weakened by the fear of self-retreat.

“Alas, shake your hand!”. Under these forged circumstances, Anne does not amaze Ree. “Don’t forget to store them in pieces”.

So Ree takes the box, blue rectangle oxenfree, and crushes thy idols. Anne is inconspicuous to the ears that do not hear. “Oh dear, you mere slut”. But Ree’s in parallel angers with her personal crusade: the creator of the bay.

The one-sided face of a drone-striked syrian baldie expresses utilities. He commences “Greetings, Ree”. Anne seized the insolence and with no care for machinery she is to sabotage a nation’s worth for peace.