Lone Star Mountain ships on vigor of the waves are skimming

To his surprise this woman approached him!
She spoke, or he presumed that's what she was trying to do, but the way in which her mouth formed words made him think she'd had a small stroke beforehand; maybe it was customary for these uncivilized beasts to drop their children wherever they fell straight from the womb? A good knock to the head would explain the slurring.

Still, she was a sight. Reminding the man of the many calves his father had inherited from his own father, and the bulls and the cows; but this woman in particular was very much clothed like a holstein, yet the size of a newborn of the species.

I am Marius Calixtus, traveler, poet, artisan, and intellectual. He wondered if any of those words meant anything to this woman — or maybe she would be stuck on his name, given that her own was monosyllabic and at first encounter, so was the rest of her.

Pray tell, what brings you so far up this mountain? I am here for the views, I was seeking beauty. For once he did not make a quip about his surroundings, neither did he jest with the woman as instinct often led him to.