Women Showing Their Body To Men

And thank him for me. Reading the classics

lapping waters, thoughts that are lost in the current newspaper. Now clear sea and deep almost close, now that swallows black ink and clear and mutters, mumbles ... muttered ... Silence liquid below the surface, no noise, only figures without audio. The sound no longer lived 'here ... no longer lived 'here ... if n 'went sick with a suitcase full of noises, music and voices. He left a gray day, with the fog that dirty look, and all around. The sound he's' gone because no one was listening. The tone and the expression went, saying that they felt old uncles without grandchildren, with so much experience behind but still too much to see, there remain only doppisensi created. They were the colors, that's selfish as usual, except that most were 'happy for them because "it is more and more c'èspazio. Some felt it was not more, who had too much to do and who c'aveva not do anything more, we do not take more than the bread now, with all that cost figure. Figures and movement ubriacarone three days, spent in banquets, dances with no songs and no music, but with so much energy and chock full of animation. Aah, that good old time for the smells and perfumes, some of them even ran for and was going to steal someone else's fields of words, so subtle as their usual seats in silence. The gang finally feel surprised they could vent their libido, always eagerly seizing the attention; only whoremongers. Everything seemed to go well for a while 'you are fit, they all want a little bit to win the order, as if it were a religion that was not bad, but so were all in the casino, because everyone likes to get fucked. Who says no, he is ashamed to say it. The more time passed, he was wandering out of necessity, but in the end never came back and did not understand how old he was, once you thought old, once you did younger, while the other you seem to have not passed yet so that kind assiniglia them ... come on, what's his name ... But the figures after a while lost their imagination, they did not feel appreciated and there was always some young people with ideas in mind, who did not feel represented, there was to take matters in hand, which was do not wait to tell everyone else to be, with the excuse that it is a bit 'that we do not see that sooner or later, the conscience tells you that maybe esaegeravi and I was trying to talk about it, but if their remember it and not say all the good times are always the best, but then one can not 'trust an alien who claims to be new to this parti.Finchè the decision did not take him by instinct. He dropped a couple of smiles, has convinced the few present, the court has the opportunity and the shameless francesona fat of the routine, until he realizes his goal: to convince everyone that from now on, things change, we now think of him. The other is gone and he escaped with two points. Fuck it, but thank him for me.

Free Racquetball Courts Florissant Mo

million-euro question: why? Answer: because they are the ones who have put down 'ideas first, who penned the paper, leaving black fantasies embedded in that ink. To classical mean everything that is not a contemporary writer, in short, that rubbish is recycled ill. I know, I get off the net and gross hatchet as sharp on soft wood, but this is my space and my ideas we put them in capital letters and if I want to scream '!
We do not realize that the writers of today are all speed, vulgarity, spremutine and lightness of heart. Where are the values? Where are those words that you read with due attention to perceive the vastness of feelings that they know contain? Where are those pages that are attached to each other, you drag, which take you away, you leave that bit of bitterness when you reach the end, because it is finished something too good, something that we sparked the imagination. Books that have the ability to make you feel alive twice: once because the other because they breathe more. Today they do not write, now put into words how a movie image, images, fast and relentlessly, you look beautiful just because they are fast and they fill their own speed, not their substance, not fully. Today the words they use to fill white space, not have learned to use them with the necessary intelligence, since they are sacred and fragile instruments.
I understand that everyone has their own tastes, everyone can read what they like and the important is to read, and enjoy, and to take questions. Even eating is important, indeed crucial, but equally important is the quality. Surely a personality like mine who lives by his own delusions and ideas of all may not be the best "Consigliori" books, I can not be a reference, I have the ability to define where they begin with the books which supports the library and those with whom thou hast made love (always from a purely ideal and mental well-meant!), but one thing I can say, indeed I can safely say: read everything that exists before the contemporary writers! The latter invented nothing, fuck only the publishers and those who buy them, invading your fantasies with excellent commediuole hired, extracts of mock and aseptic eroticism, carrying books that seem to television formats, we feed our vomit and we pay them. Unbelievable. Extr
I know it sounds unrealistic to say that the "contemporary writers" have not invented anything but the truth. It 'a truth that hurts, especially when they find out with our eyes as we read, while robbing the pages with our own eyes. Already there propinano junk buckets, we should not self-flagellation in our leisure time. We must love each other in the brain!
I understand that Marinetti was a futurist and all that is behind us, but he "Club of the nice" to describe the storm spins a phrase like "The black sky was shaken by an escape rhythm of arms of ivory, and stab the faces of the clouds."
I do not know what image you have now in my head, but I still shiver of pleasure. A pleasure
slow, which does not dissolve instantly.

L.