The fiddle of the early settlers shrouds societal expectations with the warmth of impenetrable solidarity. So, buy into the fields of the farms, as the wheat sways in the fields of the mid-west.
Rock your chair on the porch of possibility and consider the howling winds of northern loneliness.
I have to ask: To what depth are your intercourses?
As the saloon echoes with screams of debauchery, the Sheriff flaunts his badge of moral rectitude. “Do not speak to me!” he said. “You are deserving of death!”