This place is a meager furrow, a waterway to pass words over. A bit, a spill, a ruckus to examine the shortcomings and ailments in Midgard. A measure, a flow, a source to feed from and bring light and carve axioms, groping for a stronghold for the benefit of the new seat of the entitled. An action, a happy shimmer, a slaughter of scabs and rabble. A real loosener among libels and doggerels. A noble cause of utmost generosity towards our light-shy elements. A bite against the foul language, plagiarists and other mischief. The very exponent of Being, a small ounce of well-chosen ability in surroundings filled with misers, rascals, fidgets in a constant colic and these other too motley children of sorrow. A well-meaning thrower of ignorance, vulgarity, bad taste, bad manners and other condemnations. Now to the point:

Throwing here sweetly adorned rubbish for rotten eyes
to drink, tongue twist, lick the salt of the salt lick.