circumstances with some pain, almost for sport.
She never responded. The letter in question was nothing brilliant, in fact, read it again after I changed some other images I feel are most appropriate, it being clear that I find bitter the matter, taking into account that my style is to preserve spontaneity and purity of the past in their reflections of this.
But that was then, because as I said before, to find those black eyes, vibrating like two small beetles jet, kneeling on his back, caught behind words, claiming the flashing of their wings the attention it rightfully should deliver himself, was for aC
Many times I wish I could share but I know my hands are empty.
