When I was drawn to myself at once as a summer rampage, and the heat flirted with us, the landscape was sultry, fogged with volcanic vapors, and we would be accustomed to an air war of refreshing drafts — our eyes trained for science. We should stop losing the false illusion - which we have told each other as truth - and just love it as a sweet-sad consolation of tears! Just watch as the mature, drunken summer kisses the veins of tree leaves into golden treasures, training lattice-belly blinds so that when we fall into each other’s arms at the universal word of the Universe we can refresh the hiatus of the air.

Caress your hair with delicious and pleasant chocolate chips! "But happiness and satisfaction do not radiate from me now," despised bitterness rages with the pounding steel needle of a steam drill in your heart:


Now that you have grown into a married, committed woman, you can only vegetate almost every day so that the eternal One Emotion dies immortal again as Prometheus. “Many times I watch the silver smile of stars with a delicate navel — but that doesn’t hope for salvation either. To resurrect the immortal realm of Eden! Your eyes are two vulnerable, orphaned

a tiny continent of desolation and also the books - with which I surround myself every day, and they have brought remorse that has destroyed my counted time. Now, under the bearded icicles, I crouch up like beaten shipwrecks. The indifferent Winter also targets me with killer frost glances over my head!