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Miltonian juncture shelters those whose effervescent would not goes to be taken for granted, hence the conceptualizing of the most ostentatious time for them to actually enswathes themselves with such utmost beguile and enchanting ardor. Merely owned by the ticking juncture, the fate that leads them to a sanctimonious rendezvous with one another—encountering a phizog after one, motioning to the billet-doux that ostentatiously provides those a site to sojourn forevermore. Fabricated so seamlessly upon the dexterity of adroitness, but the eyes can be deceiving.

Compiled in such aggrandizing flabbergasts within a fraud, solemn disquietude silenced every stratosphere of mesmerizing night at the circus. Whether the sacchariferous blithe is still there or is being stolen by an mortal despondency, which one is the real one? Two loud allies, one unavowed truth, and a monstrous pride awaits, the lies sojourns behind the red, ostentatious tent. Anodyne fiesta. All and sundry seems to desire pristine virtue and with cordiality amour, the clowns are thrilling the twilight, deceiving with lies— they will encourage you regardless of your truth. The show must go on with their unfathomable frabjous gaiety. ִ ་  ִ₊˚ 𖥔
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