the evening sunset. A magical moment, just a few moments later. The dusk. A mysterious scenario, where the night takes the place of day, nature does the somersault of a metamorphosis, the winds are lost, the certainties become milder, the heart laments missing a few beats, the sky turns shades of pantone out. The pitch of the night, plush, peeps on the red roofs, red sunset, red button humanity, red with fatigue.
the morning dawn. One moment empty, just moments before. The sunrise. The big sleep coming to an end. Resist the new light. Resist the frenzy of what will be. Resist the mystery disappears, capturing the flavor of the last dream. Hang in there, but the nest is flooded. The gear of the day, sound prelude to what will lap input to the memory of the dark, timeless accelerates accelerates accelerates.
Making, with the taste to create. No matter what. The important thing is sculpting, hard to know what. Asimov has whispered to me one day ... in return, had the gift of supernatural almost immediately see the application of a theory, so use them. In the cold marble block of abstract structure, he could see no obvious problems, the intricate design of a wonderful device: block opened as a magic touch and the device remains in its place ...
Breathe, the air democratic act. The air is all. What you breathe, is the same that I breath. Not the type. Just the same air. What comes out of your lungs in some way, then enter the mine, you can not do anything. You're a little me time. You then live like me. You then run away like me. You then dreams as me.
the morning dawn. One moment empty, just moments before. The sunrise. The big sleep coming to an end. Resist the new light. Resist the frenzy of what will be. Resist the mystery disappears, capturing the flavor of the last dream. Hang in there, but the nest is flooded. The gear of the day, sound prelude to what will lap input to the memory of the dark, timeless accelerates accelerates accelerates.
Making, with the taste to create. No matter what. The important thing is sculpting, hard to know what. Asimov has whispered to me one day ... in return, had the gift of supernatural almost immediately see the application of a theory, so use them. In the cold marble block of abstract structure, he could see no obvious problems, the intricate design of a wonderful device: block opened as a magic touch and the device remains in its place ...
Breathe, the air democratic act. The air is all. What you breathe, is the same that I breath. Not the type. Just the same air. What comes out of your lungs in some way, then enter the mine, you can not do anything. You're a little me time. You then live like me. You then run away like me. You then dreams as me.
The house and the environment. Most importantly, the veranda. A little bit out of a house. Interface between intimacy and exteriority. Your world becomes our world. Lookout point, waiting arena, a plaything of slowing down the second swing. Wood, I like to think of wood, spacious, luminous, important, fragrant. And behind them, perhaps nothing.
Crying, silent moment of reunion with yourself. Shake you hard, like a wave of those that you feel flying. Pinagere secretly. She cried. Hold down the plant, to give vent to all, to vibrate all. Orgasm with tears. Breathing stopped. Meanwhile, it soaks the page tears, the page manager, the special page, the page is worth the whole book.
many borders, many twilights, many dawns, many sculptures, the breathing, many porches, both cry. So many different points. So many different boundaries. The question is, what is your point line?
Crying, silent moment of reunion with yourself. Shake you hard, like a wave of those that you feel flying. Pinagere secretly. She cried. Hold down the plant, to give vent to all, to vibrate all. Orgasm with tears. Breathing stopped. Meanwhile, it soaks the page tears, the page manager, the special page, the page is worth the whole book.
many borders, many twilights, many dawns, many sculptures, the breathing, many porches, both cry. So many different points. So many different boundaries. The question is, what is your point line?
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