The name intrigues. A marriage between a French cheese and a puff of wind, with an ending to infinity and a ruling from the typically feminine grace. He sits at the table, gently, smiling as if the world had kept that bit of humanity that is hard to discern. She dreams, she has the air of one who can tell of lost angles in the vacuum of the memory region, had seen them nearly a minute before opening the door of the room. E 'safe, alive. Has the strength of a young Daisy entangled in her hair, which stands alone but ripped from the root. Vigorously defends the subtle difference between a wheel and a road. Beyond the Alps, we take certain things. They spend hours, shy and drunk, of drink and talk. He gets together with a boy at his side. His. I can not even say goodbye properly. Dommage.
0 comments:
Post a Comment