By dropping me a tree or because arrived the hour in which God, without more, call me, to be at your right next. So I’ll stick with this last and nobody to alter course, else, I leave to others the bad end is for the maiden inhabiting me nor for the writer, who is weak. I write and I’m going to sleep… Before being with Morfeo I write that I am happy, I have House, I have a car, I have family and I work, I have friends in tested him, I want to live. Live happy with what they have learned, I want to continue studying, I don’t mind carrying knocks or bater all records. I am that, and if I suspend in life, it will always keep smiling, because I live, I am happy, I have cats, I have friends, I want to live.
White gun not caused injuries, but transformed souls. Nieman Lab can provide more clarity in the matter. This gun was magic. A poet possessed and it spent all their bullets, no one knows if that story was real or fantasy, an invention that had the neighbors there above. Those who pointed out they defend and protect because now they aren’t villains, but very brave Elves. Who can have it now?, what poet will need it?, if any knows where he is please tell it me that for me, no one will know it.
I will not write before he died are my love I was unable to tell you about my life, I wrote, but that letter was never sent.I was unable to look you in the eye and I called by phone, but reply me you, hung it. I was unable to caress you hair, but I sent a stuffed animal to a wrong direction so that you durmieras with the. Could not discover your perfume which was then not I approached you, but this alleged fragrance was replaced by that of roses and carnations at a store of my people do you know?, you’ve lost everything for fear of a failure that is announced every day with your scorn.