Having designs of her own, she was off like a scab in the sea, searching for the
vomeral sooth-sayings that would effuse her volatile ethers with the nose of
spring, or kindly, the pluming bonnets of youth, throughout the nostrilium of the
eastern lower west plaza. How she longed for a treacle to embellish her airs,
an amalgam to dash the academic bunyons of dandies with plagiarised draughts
of lily and lilac, the countenance of which, perhaps, then, involutes thymistically
into ancestoral sub-units of paleolithic salivations. It is worth a
note: deciphering a figured harmony of conspicuents & their antecedent
reciprocals is a task worthy of honey bees & marmalade, a cantus-firmus of the
olfactory bulb if you will.