December 19, 2015
I'm still alive.
All that action could be seen once the 28 days after films like is a pile of crap as even the litter of an elephant may have seen the equal. The time never passes, slow and monotonous as the walk of an earthworm. Maybe being alone flattens the day, no call to mark the day and then the blossoming of a reassuring routine that develops itself, growing from the ground like wild flowers in season. Thus is established a autonomous system, the Republic of Judah, that name if the crib with new and unexpected meanings. Here, away from it all, you act as if to embrace this solitude betrayed my species and its social nature. The limits of my little kingdom are tracked by Yellow, year after year, inch by inch, I have devoured the space, defining the possible moves, locking in a safety cage and paranoia. They are my captors and my guardians, the sentinels who experience dell'appropinquarsi (I always liked that word) of a worst enemy. The militia, who, after the bait of fake stock, rather than be satisfied with search resumes, search and still looking, searching the country like a child's hand lingers on the bottom of the jar to collect the last cookie, armed with more certainty of faith, and collecting only crumbs to its passage. And I, I'm here, waiting for the last cookie. Clinging to my stocks, armed to the teeth with weapons and incompetent. Just a bell'eroe clay. Maybe I was not crazy when I was looking my way out of a handful of pills. Instead, however something is fired, and now I watch my little kingdom furiously like a hamster in the den. You must have had one to understand or imagine that little, helpless ball of fur, be as fierce as a panther. My name was Matilda, was the dragon guarding the treasure, and my fingers just stupid or greedy knights of robbers break down. Like a dragon, he defended his treasure to the end, dying a peaceful old age on that pile of seeds, untouched. As a sort of considered the gremlin, respect its indomitable defense, so when I removed the cage to clean up (wearing leather gloves to protect riders and robbers), where he had left his treasure there. So today, when the strange thoughts rose to the surface in solitude, she also comes to mind. Out there, bandits and knights are in the shape of a hand (albeit unintended) takes care of, but thieves and monsters. So, I'm the dragon, the guardian of I lair. At first, taking advantage of increasingly stringent temperatures, I went to remove the yellow statues made from frost, often recognizing a familiar face or acquaintance, but when the host of fake Belfagor not satisfied of my "generous contribution" I gave up. That the rise of the Yellow their groans at the real enemy, my guards will be in addition to the bars of this cage.
stay alive.
I'm still alive.
All that action could be seen once the 28 days after films like is a pile of crap as even the litter of an elephant may have seen the equal. The time never passes, slow and monotonous as the walk of an earthworm. Maybe being alone flattens the day, no call to mark the day and then the blossoming of a reassuring routine that develops itself, growing from the ground like wild flowers in season. Thus is established a autonomous system, the Republic of Judah, that name if the crib with new and unexpected meanings. Here, away from it all, you act as if to embrace this solitude betrayed my species and its social nature. The limits of my little kingdom are tracked by Yellow, year after year, inch by inch, I have devoured the space, defining the possible moves, locking in a safety cage and paranoia. They are my captors and my guardians, the sentinels who experience dell'appropinquarsi (I always liked that word) of a worst enemy. The militia, who, after the bait of fake stock, rather than be satisfied with search resumes, search and still looking, searching the country like a child's hand lingers on the bottom of the jar to collect the last cookie, armed with more certainty of faith, and collecting only crumbs to its passage. And I, I'm here, waiting for the last cookie. Clinging to my stocks, armed to the teeth with weapons and incompetent. Just a bell'eroe clay. Maybe I was not crazy when I was looking my way out of a handful of pills. Instead, however something is fired, and now I watch my little kingdom furiously like a hamster in the den. You must have had one to understand or imagine that little, helpless ball of fur, be as fierce as a panther. My name was Matilda, was the dragon guarding the treasure, and my fingers just stupid or greedy knights of robbers break down. Like a dragon, he defended his treasure to the end, dying a peaceful old age on that pile of seeds, untouched. As a sort of considered the gremlin, respect its indomitable defense, so when I removed the cage to clean up (wearing leather gloves to protect riders and robbers), where he had left his treasure there. So today, when the strange thoughts rose to the surface in solitude, she also comes to mind. Out there, bandits and knights are in the shape of a hand (albeit unintended) takes care of, but thieves and monsters. So, I'm the dragon, the guardian of I lair. At first, taking advantage of increasingly stringent temperatures, I went to remove the yellow statues made from frost, often recognizing a familiar face or acquaintance, but when the host of fake Belfagor not satisfied of my "generous contribution" I gave up. That the rise of the Yellow their groans at the real enemy, my guards will be in addition to the bars of this cage.
stay alive.
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