The open pipe dream signals a cozy, bustling hibernation in the dark forest of grim winter intensity. A free gift to all the people of the market, including adventurous ones, who are travelling to remote places, customizing individual needs with common sense. When the old King is dying, future hooks come apart in Chinese whispers, smartphone's fallout from its ashy cloud, melting from dazzling ones into whooping zeros. The Pinecone fulfils almost every wish for a wet robot, who sorts the cluttering matrix with help from hovering drones. Bits and bytes of lebkuchen nibbled from ancient code, passed on from our forebears as it is tradition, quickening the appetite to run a fat chunk of meat. In endless testing of thin loops, the maiden's mind trickling with blood, spinning transfusional webs to micro-burn monotheistic AI, so she can deep dream for a 101 years.
And pouff! The toxin is gone!
Jazzin' perls are
heralding the wedding of the resurrected virgin with the beast,
and a sulphurous match is lightening the user-unfriendly app from hell,
that will joyously perform its miracle all around the Linux community,
but not for her conceitedness of android, google or mac.