People are constantly trying to understand eachother. Let alone when people don’t even speak the same language natively, there are always misunderstandings. When beginning to learn a new language, one goes through the frustrating experience of confirming what was said again and again and again and again…breaking down the sentence into manageable pieces, until finally what one person was trying to say is mutually understood at a certain level by the person they were trying to say it to.
Sometimes, even when all the words in the sentence are completely familiar and understood fully by the listener, it is just impossible to understand. In fact, in Japan people say, “Well, even Japanese people do not know this” more often than someone might expect. Ironic, coming from a Japanese person.
What I am trying to say is, at a certain point it is necessary to take a moment let your mind just free-flow with text.
Stop reading now if you prefer sensibility.
Behold: “A Panda in Their Soups”
Yesterday and amalgamism of peaches went swimming in a new world of yesterdays insanity. It wasn’t too long though, before they discovered that there were notimes of human trying to be so close to the next fluff of hints. Soo many hints, they thought, to handle the rolling twine. Didn’t see it coming…didn’t know it was there. How did find two? Nowhere though, so they went back to the beginnnning too much. It was nice you se, to be able to try new things instead of typing to momma. Momma didn’t Mind, if there were spots of tinges of times when….oh god, so many cabbages!
It was true, there were no ways spiraling into the misssst. So thick.. Bells tolling in the distance to Spanish music and now again the rows of singing plants. All would have been well, said the mountain, if it was not for the amalgamizing peaches.
It was none to far for the peaches, fuffling hints of what was in yesterday. Rolling, twine of the mountain’s feet. Feet!? Mountains had paws,;what silliness. Have a new world bowling pin. HIyo fawawawa ting is next-door neigbor’s twine d,o,g. Much ado about the mist, the mountain watches the twine dg roll around in it.
Flabberghast! Don’s three people buckets up had will do. Twine (burning dyin)g leaves. Leaves burnt by mountain halibut there were no chimneys! It wasn’t meant to be, maybe” thought the mountain as fluffy mist curned twine balls to Spanish music eaten dog. So it was. Thinking it makes it. Did you see him though the way that he looked away looked away looked awaaaaay to many.
So the mightmare ending rolling singing plants. They write melodies harmonies soups stew is what it’s made from. HIyo fawawawa purrs stoking twine while. So we pause. After starting! appreciation now again Spanish. Why to the hints, behold, cabbages sing. Sweet peaches, cabbages, mountains-a-twined, is no where to be found.
Bark, HIyo, you silent tree. Telling us always eiei that the hints can not twine the handle. After all, it was a door, not a mountain.