For this is the truth about our soul, he thought, who fish-like inhabits deep seas and plies among obscurities threading her way between the boles of giant weeds, over sun-flickered spaces and on and on into gloom, cold, deep, inscrutable; suddenly she shoots to the surface and sports on the wind-wrinkled waves; that is, has a positive need to brush, scrape, kindle herself, gossiping.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 602 | 2025-09-02 03:35:03 | 51.10 | 95% |
| 496 | 2025-03-28 13:18:48 | 51.53 | 94% |
| 458 | 2025-03-24 14:25:03 | 50.68 | 94% |
| 413 | 2025-03-18 14:09:29 | 52.41 | 94% |
| 390 | 2025-03-15 08:59:14 | 50.97 | 95% |
| 362 | 2025-03-14 15:11:14 | 54.23 | 95% |
| 297 | 2025-02-27 16:00:39 | 50.99 | 94% |
| 240 | 2025-02-24 12:47:50 | 44.98 | 92% |
| 189 | 2025-02-19 15:14:46 | 50.28 | 94% |
| 187 | 2025-02-19 15:10:21 | 49.53 | 95% |
| 59 | 2025-02-09 13:38:24 | 44.87 | 92% |
| 45 | 2025-02-06 16:59:11 | 47.01 | 92% |
| 31 | 2025-02-05 11:18:10 | 44.42 | 94% |
| 29 | 2025-02-05 11:13:32 | 45.04 | 92% |
| 5 | 2025-02-03 16:18:43 | 44.34 | 93% |
| 3 | 2025-02-03 16:13:19 | 39.64 | 92% |