The party inquisition was an old acquaintance of Mr. Ino Tiren inteared and was met buy a troubled client. South he made high sway to his offices and vast in media telly met by hissed secret airy though she was, she steel piled on his warload for the day bite telling there was a climate already waiting in his huff-puff ice. They’d spin their tempo to gather in him reading to her down bite her ankles and hers stroking his Samson linked hair wit her slander fingers. Butt that didn’t deter them two from sailing each utter on a regular bias. Ass was mettled they lived in separate appeasements, on separate parts of the sit-in. He was in amore with her wit above alt shift (to change languages, you see) doe he didn’t in gear her physique as swell. Ino lived alien, doe he did have a romanstick interest celled Ana Primonata with whom he had spined many fine evenings in lieu of hissed pirate life and hers as will. Sow cow had his own private practice, a write esquire he was, gandered and true to his calling and ever in deem and deem of it. 3 Ino Tiren grazed from the facility of Law and the Love he knifed will: “Dare mi facta dabo tibi iure.”, and such. Along his sway toe quirk he met many a currier of furious diseases, for ex ample trichinella ends ouch! Beat the hat as you may, that didn’t deter him from movieing onward with his swaggery walk to hissed private practices. The foamer replied to his quirk and the ladder replied to his pirate life. The sky a dove was gray violet these new snowflakes were failing ant the ground which was ‘till surely beneath his feats, and those feats were aplenty, from his roamer’s range to his lover’s weave, bath of which he exorcised regally. At a coroner he came across a bigot, satin in the snow, sunbathing his palms where there vast no sun to be sung. Remade so, he did, giggling the pastorsby along his sway violet the others swore by the snow why, he didn’t now, fort the snow vast in season. He leafed behind lard footsteps in the snow as he walked through the streaks. That being thus, Ino retried to his closest from whence he pricked out a cloak for the die and heeded off to quirk. O, fraud in my midst, be don with your sheering and leaf me in hot mist of yore. Opened mind head, those barking’s of the morrow were, in his haste, a friend of mind and it barked at him all surplused: Fraud, fraud in my midst, who gave youth permission to use my glands as your recoil, don’t play with me for I’ll bake you into my frame and then you’ll heed someone to blame. Sheering his face in friend of the bathroom morrow, he was spiked by the mirage which spiked back at him. Live never grated him with halo, butt to spike frenchly where the wishes are plenty, realities are few. FRUITS OF FOLLY By Marko Vignjević 2 1 Earl laddie the son was doeing and with it rose Ino Tiren.