s:-S
cc = \_

The towers were like cinder-glass cylinders, broken at areas located near defensive patterns.
She was not a sinner, but a taker. cc.
Baring morning sunlight was enough to start the day off straight. Bustling by snow banks and concrete cavalcades since the Mexican revolution. And there could be seen piles of polychromatic sitenets blotted out by symbols of noiseless black, plastered skyward; their past vibrancy overshadowed by decades of impending doom. The machine of symbols was apt to condemn the circumnavigation of illiterate thinking, because it considered more greatly the monetary importance of the matter (re: The Early World War Period). Necessary targets were pinned down by the restitution. They were worth more than whatever credit was to them given.

Previous to this insubordination, she was as docile as a bow of reeds, but after zero reluctance, the horizontally stacked bars of reason were de-laddering an entire contingent of reluctance in the warzone of her mind.
'Where are the blister-rings?' he asked, leaning carelessly against the wall, puffing on an Indonesian e-smoke.
'I don't have any with me at the moment.' she said normally. 'But why don't you stop by later? I'm sure are some lying around.' Her demeanor, much like his, was careless, affable, indicative of knowing too much and getting into the wrong kinds of places. It couldn't be easier.