Foliage Foliage I place my boot on the neck of this commie bone bag, the toe resting on his chin. I think, I hate this wet heat he breathes. At least there is no rain in it--for now. I hate his elusive sky, too. A sky filled with foliage, opposed the limbs and leaves of the hickory or oak trees back home. Slats, you and Mad-dog planning to link up that commie beaner, Luke hissed at me. I watch as earth seems to shift; 5 7, 176 pounds of ground foliage in campaign of me apparently transforms itself into a Forced Recon Marine, even though my genius knows it is just Luke stepping out of the underbrush.
1 Foliage, there is an appropriate sound--and smell. Foliage, aged and harass foulness. I long for a dry breath of elucidate air from home where foliage is something read about in the geography books, not swum through, or sloshed through, or drop into. I glance at Luke. Luke and I are similar. thither are just some minor differences between us. I am 11 1/2 taller--part o...If you want to push back a full essay, order it on our website:
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