When Jill saw she was one, she saw two and the many others that made her one in one two two one two times two. She Mona in the playing field, and the Mona Lisa was her too, I mean as well, in addition, but thither and hither she sent her sound, signifying down the barriers of life and death, and she knew she was she-ed pas t the edification of Franny mothers. Not liked the othered ones, she had past her two and went her one. And like the One she was two, always adding an abstract one, and then a hyper-two for good measure.

"I don't even want to know there were men before me" she echoed and "I don't even want to know " "I don't even want [nor wane as well] there were women before me" That was not so sure, not-so-sure in her cupable way. Of lids and mouths. Too cheap to call that is not true. So Franny, I mean Mona, she said to her niveaued plastered self, her plastered columned shelf. Something like that, and not like that. Other thing.

Cupable inquires Mona it's the self winding project of the doomed disaster dons.
Simple as air inquires the roof. Of its shelving and dusk. Our name becomed behooved its one.