Sunday begins Saturday and ends Monday morning! You can never believe? She was always so
began on Saturday and Sunday is not a joke you should never joke about such an important issue. Sabat O. .. have to write it, with wide spaces between letters and the other, made it clear what was important at the moment. For everything there is a ritual to which we must prepare. It began on Saturday night for their very, very soon, especially in winter. They lived about 900 m above lm Mica joke. It 'clear that the sun was setting, and still goes down very soon in a place surrounded by mountains. Looked out and hey presto a day in less than no time it was already dark. There was nothing absolutely nothing that scary. Never once looking over felt, say, a shiver down my spine. Even the mountains with the sunset became dark they looked familiar. With eyes half closed, thinking the quick transition between day and night, it is clear that the memories pass through the nostrils. A mixture of smells, they know of wood, resin and breath, breath, oranges mixed with talcum powder night and have the memories, the scent of warm bread. Among these steps, there are many variations smell, intense and persistent. But already we digress ...
On Saturday evening, the preamble of Sunday, began with the rumare water. A blue bathroom, neither large nor small end of the corridor. A large window on the green. A small mirror framed in black, where years later he saw a spider walking. He saw, or perhaps he thought of him walking on his face reflected, like a caress suspended. Meanwhile, the water filled the tub and the bathroom smelled of soap and clean. Once again assailed by the smells is soft and velvety. The smell of fresh water has mixed with the mist that now tarnishes the mirror where it has already drawn a smile from the droplets.
(continued)
began on Saturday and Sunday is not a joke you should never joke about such an important issue. Sabat O. .. have to write it, with wide spaces between letters and the other, made it clear what was important at the moment. For everything there is a ritual to which we must prepare. It began on Saturday night for their very, very soon, especially in winter. They lived about 900 m above lm Mica joke. It 'clear that the sun was setting, and still goes down very soon in a place surrounded by mountains. Looked out and hey presto a day in less than no time it was already dark. There was nothing absolutely nothing that scary. Never once looking over felt, say, a shiver down my spine. Even the mountains with the sunset became dark they looked familiar. With eyes half closed, thinking the quick transition between day and night, it is clear that the memories pass through the nostrils. A mixture of smells, they know of wood, resin and breath, breath, oranges mixed with talcum powder night and have the memories, the scent of warm bread. Among these steps, there are many variations smell, intense and persistent. But already we digress ...
On Saturday evening, the preamble of Sunday, began with the rumare water. A blue bathroom, neither large nor small end of the corridor. A large window on the green. A small mirror framed in black, where years later he saw a spider walking. He saw, or perhaps he thought of him walking on his face reflected, like a caress suspended. Meanwhile, the water filled the tub and the bathroom smelled of soap and clean. Once again assailed by the smells is soft and velvety. The smell of fresh water has mixed with the mist that now tarnishes the mirror where it has already drawn a smile from the droplets.
(continued)
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