quesadilla
I am a stroller. I like to stroll around my neighborhood, going nowhere in particular. Watching the grass and the birds sing, sing sing. It's peaceful, and beautiful.
Raise. Raisen bread. The sweet smell of raisen bread swam up to my nostrils, and made a growling in the pit of my stomach.
I thought that said discus. I don't even know what a dicuss is. Neither does my spell check. Maybe they meant discus? if not, well... idk... It could be an ancient way of calling someone a dick.
The trees they grow so high. With all their mysterious wonders. The wood lice live there. In tiny wooden huts, invisible to the naked eye, or even to advance high precision electron microscopes, whoa! nuts.
There was a big loft about a mile uptown. It was abandoned and there was a little old lady that like to traverse up there. She would stay there for hours. Just mooing at it.