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chase escalates as a cute and quick fluffy bob of cotton dances just always out of reach, a tickle just beyond the sense, reach and preach, almost distraction with it’s own bent and agenda...they chase cute until a deft hop plunges cuteness into a turnt and wicked hole hiding behind the shadow of a twistedly heavy and morose tree. “^^%Fo!!03,,,w3, fo((ow]]¿¿!]” ‘we should think’ ‘a breath before’ “@DV3NT&R#!!!@” ‘of course!’ ‘but we choose’ “t4h4i555 t4R33 looOOls w3irds” ‘exactly’ ‘let’s think’