>>23862

It's candy.

[X] The grase-estaimed, the songstress herselve.

[x] The whitte fibres cut, and dusken after.

What the hell is this.

>>23862
Wannabe YAF misspelled shit.

Intentional misspellings and no hint of what's going on? Now there's a good opening for a story if I've ever saw one.

[x] The whitte fibres cut, and dusken after.

>>23862
>>23866
>>23873
>>23880

Finnegan's Wake, by James Joyce. Google it.

[X] Dolce, all-a-one, her poppet-fallows friends.

[X] The grase-estaimed, the songstress herselve.

I've read it in Demoman's voice and it made SENSEnever mind that he's Scottish rather than Irish

>>23882
Joyce was a hack!

>>23882
That's why, but I still can't tell what's what.

Can someone smarter than me tell me what they think they just read? I have no fucking idea. But I like it.

>>23888

Why not leave it as a surprise..?

Dolce, all-a-one, her poppet-fallows friends.
Alice due to "poppet" is just an older spelling of "puppet" is the only one I could pick out but as for the rest I can't tell if the first one refers to a butterfly-forest liege-Wriggle? or not. Hell if may not even refer to them personally.

This is /forest/ after all

>>23889
The choices seem relatively simple. Mystia, probably Wriggle (the fuck is a papilia? pupa?), a fairy, Rumia (or Marisa?), Alice. I'm wondering about the rest of it.

Oh. This rereading it suddenly makes sense. We're a kid daydreaming during history class.

[X] The grase-estaimed, the songstress herselve.

[x] The grase-estaimed, the songstress herselve.

This text hurts my brainmeats.

[x] The whitte fibres cut, and dusken after.

>>23891
>the fuck is a papilia? pupa?

'Papilla' probably. I guess in reference to her antennae.

[x] Forest fliege, the papilia.

[x] Dolce, all-a-one, her poppet-fallows friends.

[x] The whitte fibres cut, and dusken after.
Mystery option! Well not really (or at all)

[x] Forest fliege, the papilia.

>>23873
I can tell you with 100% accuracy this is blindingly incorrect and way, way, WAY beyond YAF's ability, hypothetical wannabe or not.

[X] The grase-estaimed, the songstress herselve.

Road, dirth and dustance, the valey of dirth, the florest parameated aground it, so furrowed, so trekked our souls ontil the shoestrung coaked with greet and grovel, and thenupon a stand, sawn, stoodstill, of would and while, a prosper comeupponce!

So I sought, and so, took I beneth the awening, umbelly, fairday kage, sweet from the haught and the seiseon.

The proprietiress: a starrybook laurellass, a piniondance, tiedied up her hair enchiefed. Reest, and roast not, cheek accountered, eiyes lax, she glinses to me, and spake. Naught now, she quorte. Ressemble eveafter, for the nightime, the dearktime.

Unnascesary. My breagh, alieu me that!

Esquinter upon me, her see palpabral. Journious disdressed you, say she. Youman you, you shaldnt strally so fare awry the villase grein. And grin and grinner, she talls you beost, and bogumen, and fear falk afrittous.

I arkknowledge none! Wreak, I am wreak. My phalanks jib, and fumors spit. Thure and thure no overman braune I, but I know. This is the fantcy whorld, all ahead. No stings and errors here. My phalanks jib, but here, rejoyned, tenderns untearned, they surve archic untirely! Ontinue, says I!

Her dactyl dantse, her dah-dit-dit o'er wouldentop as reaver rapstones. Her graze nearrows. Dit-dit, dah-dah-dah! O, tryly? Dit-dah-dit-dah. So sung keratine, a riamarkable chime, chime unnaugh, and chime unnaugh outlast.

And so say I: O raely! O suretainly! I, with couldron canfidense troubling. As I as my wit, my whytehat worn. I am Herocles, who marks mystakes so laboronth, Odissous, who saul away woth eairs onsteeped. Shan't be locked. Shan't go nangry agone.

Anysing due dawn, mockingsmile becross. Haller nearthing? Famis lest wounds. Bettor boughnear?

Oh yeas, oh yeas.

Professer Reid studens me. See hough! Alder high Red, of, buckle and belled, of spec and spain, of feiwnerals, of thrombling fist. No fobben. Unquerious. He glazes us with his parsence. Here is the glawing lokk, here is the wrankle in the palper, as the thrombling caursed. No fobben. I'd devert him inyways. He is exed with no ayese. No fobben, but you heare not, seait not. Your fase is plaine. Pliance and the harred worp obsent, but tist and essafies drawn up agan in agan as fol scyre.

Oh yeas, oh yeas.

I am freght with warrening, with dorite and sugh of the sane. I am nawbody. I am unenform-drossed, I am the feaceful stasistic. I am alonery boy, cught into paces. I am heroe. Headt gen caput, but headt is headt, is us, is are, is ur, is our.

We woull visight the stand again, to morrow, and today after and today after.

Short and sweet~

Good thing too, this would quickly overstay its welcome.

As much as I enjoy this site in general, I'd have to say that this is one of my favorite pieces on THP. I'll probably come back to this every once in a while to see if I can decipher more of your 'turnsafrase'. Thanks, man.

I hope I saged right, so this doesn't necrobump.