Golden tracers from the jaggering MG42 buzzsaw lit up the air like glitter, and from both directions there were bee-hive-volumes of whizzes and snaps as bullets passed through the air, in some cases only feet from them.
I don't like this tune, and I'm rather tired, so I think I'll just sit it out.
In prison, a chimo—slang for child molester—was the lowest of the low.
But glorious, and educating, and inspiring as is the sunrise in itself in many cases, there is occasionally something very remarkable that is connected with it. Rare is it, but how charming when, witnessed, though till very' recently it was all but unexplained. This is the foreglow. It is in no respects so splendid as the afterglows succeeding sunset; but because of its rarity, its beauty is enhanced.
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DiQt
Free
★★★★★★★★★★
