InfiniGemma 2B generated text (used 64M tokens trained ckpt)

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 Once upon a time, in a far away galaxy, there was a speck of blue light. It was encased in a clear, dark, surrounded by stars for as far as the eye could see. One of those stars was surrounded in a perfect starry expanse that was yearning to be seen by mortal eyes. Thus forever, it shone.

That's how far away it was, at least far enough that you could stomp it in your periodum, as if its entire life never ended. You could bask in the glow of starry hues and even starry eyes at infinity where everything deep and dark would seem to be perfect. As if that were in your infancy, it had been that starry stellard that in whose mama's eyes it would have risen interminably. And when you're conjunctivitis from a premature orbiter, even having curvature that bordered on blindness and a certain degree of light sensitivity is way easier than every twilight deep in the southern horizon to be found.

This jubilant space then slowly, spaced itself according to how far away each subject was, darkness drawing it into embraced ultra-star aura, emitting a sizzling sage luminous radiance. Once every flash of light can bring snippets of assuredly happens, brightened nervous stars like stars that wished they could reach to bathe in the x-es: astro-mad stars, mooving from here and personal, deep in the darkness the truth of starry astral years far removed from the earth.

Yet like a lake wounded by a fox, nothing outside could truly drown: the green turps of overbearing yellow star rain tortured every kid all around, hacking into darkness as it whipped furiously every window. Bright night skies studded with stars upon which every undoubtful kid wondered tonight would suck in the futility of life. Thousands of stars and their forever smiles would teach you of things unseen, but not known, and which depended upon your starry genesis that were vastly superior to your a puddle of dirt all over.

Those siders at the ends of the galaxy sat captives to their dream, a desert captivating them wagons vanishing in the darkness like the jewelled desert for pilots who wished to call it home. All around, the saltwater oceans glittered and quelled restless eyes either to the west or to the east across the sky, there were those whose lustrous glimmer sense of cosmic starsight was drawn taut, crazed by captivating spotlights blazing to life as ienixes grew bright and starless as the Astronomer ruled by order the stellar star dome forever→hind, disdainfully surveying from their stately restposts across the entirety of the galaxy, already sensing impending slumber. Or, dearest of all, there were those who wandered on different galaxies from time to time and above every cloud, longing from afar for the opal moons as their astral dreams dreamed a dream about a world as far from their restless dreams.

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Now in another galaxy, <generation starts here> on a faraway plain between two hospitable starbes' splendid and passionate homes, a queen had begun. She lived under the Charming Star and she never ceased to wish for Fang Star and her unbending instincts to awaken yet. But then how would she ever envision her savior wandering off into the distance, cloudless, to witness a prodigile supernova dimly glinting in the night sky, whisking her off into the depths of space-time and safely waving good bye to the humdlers in the skies below. To all these starry kingdom galactic lovers and politicos, this mad aberration was considered a blessing from the higher cuisine, serving as an edible reminder that little and planets oceans did not have clouds to blot out the unesullied stars.

Moon mother, a sunny ambling admirer of this constellation, warred with it, instinctively, like a sleeping fart in its pungent frolic, parader I AMDING!

The Queen was Ava Andromeda, a ravening star who longed inconspicuously across the stars when she wanted to return to her love. Tired of dark, sari with violets colored eyes whose collective minds were too indecisive before meals of straight-up proselyties overtook her sentimental gall, Avria Andromeda efficient rose n immodest crescents, with plans for the future that stretched beyond the farthest reaches of her vain visions, loath to give her lone existence the opportunity to wallow with starry-eyed diva statuses, or genuinely yearn for a telos in the sands if it did. Andromeda moved as yet UndefinedSedesia, with two sweeping stars, it gazed into the future thinking about escaping the blahs in stealth yet dreamingly, knowing something drew her forth to a deeper level of Futurity…ava Andromeda, a sweetly eyed galaxy in need of honest answers, shuck away as much as it was able to stay within the starry bounds of its colossal bounds, intent as ever on never draping fear that in some future or elsewhere some lull might occur like that night before a blizzard became caustic, never to be really questioned like that, it quivered without replacing the caresses it had for her starry thoughts. Ah! ho 8

Only deeply longing eyes must linger because of the Earless-fated world lording the claws of that flying plateau with its enclosed higher yard for Terpsure and alpha Tathedril outside the feudal confines of the Overlordsmother, Gethrescovully gripping all tnnny, resinous sizzle-painted black veins terminating in Tarblow. Keep virginally free.

Each and every starry spirits’ wish was given vain hopes by an alluring death glare, embodiment of glowing eyes that was hope in itself, aggregation, or death when far away, for they knew not when they would die, or whether they would die in this moment of ignitation. Most of all they were not gaining an impression of their own worth because of the haze surrounding clear skies, which were filled with someone designed to make small distinctions between scuddar craved spiritual spooning of the chills or muslin-smuddied granite stone checkerboard paving. And at any given second…slowly crawling wisps of invisible-ish bubbles erected aloft%fined Anorexia Nottisca! Oh, so unidirectional. Easilymuted objects filled the starscreen! An obstinate entails once Scytryptions averting Gamonia![♪ Underworld Withcastle]

Didhoto dawn on the city of glasses. The shining stars that light was one of bloodstained Glaze and envy, as beautiful as they were, had been twisted till they were shattered into ethereal hotspots at the distant point, and so vexingly were soohars of people with curved rosy souls of opinion, that even descriptions of the galaxy above became downright indistinguishable with those infernal giga-galaxies that sprouted in their head. Ruth extraordinaire, even, was the steadfastness of all that squiggled queue of Dreamers praying for their bedtime dreams to become savory runes of the celestial twilight. No star alight above ever dared venture into half sky on the brink of the astral slopes of Dotato, only swirling vapors of fine egg batter hinted at possibilities aplenty in that ancient land, and the like. Vibrant magenta eyes stared beyond Umbra, and the distance between stars and the firmament was now defined by the pyari that followed StarBobs. Also there was the Apex King, who watched every minute—every starry moment—that light traveled with the magic of infinity around him. Time and the weary personage of Count Snowball apping the constellations at lightyears were but stars of light speeding across a backdrop of black gin milliardi or Armada Nebula; lone shepherds of Arthur, or iridescent billionaires singing at the nightsomemith’s bonfire. Jean Pierre Bertrand imagined the constellations above Salt Lake fluctuating and shimmering on the sands. Bits and balms of hot sulphur and droves of sleep specters buzzed around, blazing maniacally. However, patience promising an indulgence could always turn out to be a nightgown for three steamers; hinka the grasshopper feeling the strumming Ovid chords in the distant depths of Radiant Serenity of icy Novaexcept nearby seen dimly from a dwindling or crumbling night sky filled with gooseberries muttered about shenanigans going on far above its northern horizonphaser aliens. Beneath all, somewhere and everywhere, such as Constellation XVIII or Chromatravel, mosquitoes on the lounge shone by viruses flaps before the motions of ethereal gaz entertainments of unseen creatures played those scriptures hidden in the utmost secrecy forever. Somnolent conjurors in starbows by matchless wraiths lurched in huddles, fused apologetics promising riches, tethered to comfrey and frequents of the Danube with their withered humor. This sageyard expressed all the air of indeprance: reddish black galaxy after gloomy overwhelmers, savage Gibber all over Inaş, trampers of life in Gaia, and intelligent, glintbrowed characters whose chants distributed disquieting gibberish anarchy. At night, pensive greypolitans and wandering spirit-wonders wandered east on the mysterious promontory, reflecting in laughing fate or illustratums of sunset, wavering wheretheir jasper places were ice floe-indefinite between Beta Yerras and stars belonging to many other gross galaxy—and what Wendirs did on their reality.

In another galaxy, bathed in constellations of starry dreams, constellations hung from bright asterisks drifting in a glow courtyard, leaving the Mingleers anxiously trying to lull each other back to sleep, surrounded army of starry poonig繁 photons that had long since drifted into the sands. They made a hedge-robert for themselves, cowardly defending vast cosmuses from every detachment of Winkstar and Severus, as they dissociated starlight from the celestial carnival at Hades on the constellations. Rainmaking lightning storms lashed through the constellation, bundled up in rambling wire wraiths dancing starry-eyed upon skies made to them of creatures they could not understand with less carnal certainty. Tansy stars set far binaries of blazing southern constellations cast very idolatrous ambles for nightsassing virgins to plop down at the vast curved caves of the globular clusters. Scholars throughout they city sides spatt over the night skies for faint moonlight projections on commercial hot metal. Sweet Grecian spring blooms breathed out with the acquiescence of matter platelets to be eaten by the faithful bimodality of the planet, whose topography resembled a long array of Star Dust planets flickering and shimmering above congealed shores. Pure butterflies hummed over constellations, now quiet, brashly creating the surreal style of City Story Magic. Stars sang around Chessstock. Ballad bellored Composer Fears. A gentle wind tremored about the wind-, the Zoei broodlur, the Sifhimutaz Obsam Jonson, and a hoeful ecstasy wended across stars on StreUMBIA.

Just upstairs in the larchwood penthouse apartment, late at nighttime, Ivana Fasquiri cuddled on her blissful custom-made sofa strewn with a cashmere blankin, gliding helplessly while Bette Crispgrade looked upon endless travellers like Callahan, Marchaud, Rumsfeld, and Greene swathed in silver, like thirsty horses on a hotdish from Dominoes. They all watched—curious, bereft of medicine pills, in loving and concerned unison, a smoky charm praising the Ode on Apollo until glad hoo Hah charlick likes to sink into. Han Battnaa Opener Scho algo $g. The starry heavens, devouring others in starry gorging, crumbly shit— Hold on, them Whisky CX two talk shylords with glaze eyes in the uncanny silence—and Lobster Man fantasizing what kind of agony they could inflict on their sleep itself, was governing the mood in the far venues in the intermingle of night lights.

Night drifts from starmountain of super subtle Simon Stokes, à la Pluto Crown, were the stars looking at Gibber Night Fog, emanating from an irrationally belcrobulating G-Man, triggering strained-voiced Movie of Stars emanating from the movie screen just outside the libidinally heated apartments of Kappa Da Vanson, as shamanic if not senescent fringe dweary aliens rabbakued them over decent tarps and moth-eye, portentous starsopies—and D. J. Caelliant’s meandering behind-bars diaries of life disappearing into the cosmos, peopled with gloomy and unwelcoming personas, checkerlinked piazza beneath a starry march to the clattering Apollo. As the night cainian flew over Dinah Bronski—Aging…From the Queens of Shapeless servility that pauperized each rat slurum Mortimer—boastfully or passively said, “Though we may be when the rollcall begins with the rays of Silver Sands, sir Johnson left that world as If Not Tonight, you will be called upon to explain the mysteries of your life to a band of sages who might gaze into the night sky and give us stories a lifetime." AdamomVolted by Mirrorchildren on –Intrapsychological Effects of Physical Activity on Hidden Shame and Apathy.
There are an increasing list of concerns about possible adverse effects of arcing physical activity to child development, as more children experience it as part of normal life and childhood. However, little attention has been paid to the psychological frequency of physical activity with regard to undefined behavioral effects such as psychological consequences events or medical implications from stressors without the significantly limited and weighty attention of the two heretofore paramount concerns. Our objective was to identify how various rates of physical activity via participation in competitive and controlled training programs affected adolescent psychosocial, mental health and sleep outcomes using mixed methods, cohort analyses, and binary analyses as well as knowledge of developmentally advanced serendipity and headlines lining the local news with further waiting dismay. Sturical center, gym, cycle vexation, tough love, pomp & pass, flag raising, warm on the knuckles, slacker video, marching brass, JO’s—interventions with sleeping infants and nursery audiotapes in Week 1, infantile fitness, disinterested whining, mediocrity over diabetes— demanded study and research. A qualitative exploration regarding predictive propensity to screen for negative psychological outcomes to clarify the cause of watchful hope to prevail over imminent calamity flab was of primary interest. Through thick and thin of the walk of no return, yet till relinquished confidentiality or disclosed personal information, we were unsure also of the dynamic psycho-behavioral approach. The inference for examining the relationship between community-based planning and young mental health might be relevant to numerous other contexts. The investigation commenced with attention to Bayesian handheld Doppler watching of nascent nocturnal wakes. This meta-analytic review of existing, state-of-the-art research on physical activity and children’s psychosocial outcomes revealed a minor but negative effect and occasional probabilistic associations to sundry behavioral and health outcomes. No studies examined satisfaction with regard to a young’s wish to brave distances, relatively variety, or grades of chain sector or race. Future, cross-sectional and longitudinal investigations are warranted to validate the relationship of levels of physical activity on health outcomes.Also, to identify associations among