Face Asymmetrical Drivers License

flight safety, the winged scourge disestesso-by-case basis

Ahh here.
Meanwhile, sorry. Be patient, step randomly here, as I said.
once attended. I had to say that. A person in particular. I wrote a few chapters of a long story, but the rest, perhaps the most, after mysteriously taken shape in strange spaces and suspended the troubled mind before sleeping, it ended up in archival folders. There are situations in which the creative life you really sticks eh! The curiosity for a woman for example.
And you know that every tragedy has its comic side nice, no? Sorridiamoci, come on! Yes, kind of hair shirt wearer insane, I know that the woman is always the same. I mean, your, my, in my opinion are the same. The same person. I am a slavish
analyzer. So, putting together the elements in my possession, interpolating what I'm missing, and I see revival. I think I know who you are.
Of course, we do not know. We may have crossed somewhere. Sure we have friends in common .. professional. Then you gave me a ring, star (affectionately call a lot of people like that). The link in the chain of events that you wrote, quote essevù oratory of any liturgy, has served me impersonating you on a silver plate, pewter, or if you want. And she
, but it's her. No, never told me much about you, indeed. Then those of us sit on the bales for bias. I tried
to get a foot in his door, with deadly conviction and unfortunate naivety, at some point.
She has closed her hand in the middle: I suffered watching some nails black, then yellow, then fall out and grow back. Then he moved around. Everything passes. I lasted for a while 'desire to turn her writing.
I once had a cat, or rather two cats. Pat and Mike. I was recently married. With my wife we \u200b\u200bdecided that the cats should have their sex life without filling the house of her grandchildren. We opted for a kind of sterilization of the cat (misguided) that would allow the cycle of heat. So great trumpet, so good. Indeed no: the cat, after intercourse, not realizing pregnant she was in heat all the time. The cat was out of my head, phosphorus had liquid in his veins. The cat lived holed up under the covers to escape his constant attacks erotic. We had to castrate him. But you know there, nature is very strong: from Castro continued to fuck the cat for at least two years. Then he calmed down. More or less like I did with you we are talking about. No not a trumpet. No, there was nothing, not a kiss, not a caress, not a light touch. Only the urgent desire to see his bottom.
E 'is sensitive like a thrush. But if you do not want, and you get closer, the porcupine is pure cotton in comparison.
Shit was nice to write for her. Know I would have caused some excitement. I was afraid of you know what? Indifference. And Christ, yes, she knows how to do the indifferent. And how.
But it was true adrenaline. It made me pull out everything I had inside, buried and hidden, I was also pulling a lot of cock, if you really want to know. And all this was live.
Well the thing you did not know. But you flogged for? Look, friend (at California), be relaxed: you have lost forever. Those are so well made. One way. You played your game. Do not torture yourself with guilt. You have already forgiven him. Those
so, love and hate, live and die every day. But I bear no malice.
force is always bull's eye;)

Face Asymmetrical Drivers License

flight safety, the winged scourge disestesso-by-case basis

Ahh here.
Meanwhile, sorry. Be patient, step randomly here, as I said.
once attended. I had to say that. A person in particular. I wrote a few chapters of a long story, but the rest, perhaps the most, after mysteriously taken shape in strange spaces and suspended the troubled mind before sleeping, it ended up in archival folders. There are situations in which the creative life you really sticks eh! The curiosity for a woman for example.
And you know that every tragedy has its comic side nice, no? Sorridiamoci, come on! Yes, kind of hair shirt wearer insane, I know that the woman is always the same. I mean, your, my, in my opinion are the same. The same person. I am a slavish
analyzer. So, putting together the elements in my possession, interpolating what I'm missing, and I see revival. I think I know who you are.
Of course, we do not know. We may have crossed somewhere. Sure we have friends in common .. professional. Then you gave me a ring, star (affectionately call a lot of people like that). The link in the chain of events that you wrote, quote essevù oratory of any liturgy, has served me impersonating you on a silver plate, pewter, or if you want. And she
, but it's her. No, never told me much about you, indeed. Then those of us sit on the bales for bias. I tried
to get a foot in his door, with deadly conviction and unfortunate naivety, at some point.
She has closed her hand in the middle: I suffered watching some nails black, then yellow, then fall out and grow back. Then he moved around. Everything passes. I lasted for a while 'desire to turn her writing.
I once had a cat, or rather two cats. Pat and Mike. I was recently married. With my wife we \u200b\u200bdecided that the cats should have their sex life without filling the house of her grandchildren. We opted for a kind of sterilization of the cat (misguided) that would allow the cycle of heat. So great trumpet, so good. Indeed no: the cat, after intercourse, not realizing pregnant she was in heat all the time. The cat was out of my head, phosphorus had liquid in his veins. The cat lived holed up under the covers to escape his constant attacks erotic. We had to castrate him. But you know there, nature is very strong: from Castro continued to fuck the cat for at least two years. Then he calmed down. More or less like I did with you we are talking about. No not a trumpet. No, there was nothing, not a kiss, not a caress, not a light touch. Only the urgent desire to see his bottom.
E 'is sensitive like a thrush. But if you do not want, and you get closer, the porcupine is pure cotton in comparison.
Shit was nice to write for her. Know I would have caused some excitement. I was afraid of you know what? Indifference. And Christ, yes, she knows how to do the indifferent. And how.
But it was true adrenaline. It made me pull out everything I had inside, buried and hidden, I was also pulling a lot of cock, if you really want to know. And all this was live.
Well the thing you did not know. But you flogged for? Look, friend (at California), be relaxed: you have lost forever. Those are so well made. One way. You played your game. Do not torture yourself with guilt. You have already forgiven him. Those
so, love and hate, live and die every day. But I bear no malice.
force is always bull's eye;)

Find Miu Miu Bow Satchel

spent


Yeah I passed by chance, do not even remember the password, I had to make several attempts!
The fact is that they are a curiosity.
And this sometimes leads to trouble.
What can I do, I'm attracted by a gleam, like a magpie, ladrissima.
How many years ago when, as a kid, I woke up at dawn, perhaps after a drunk with friends, up there on my mountains. And I climbed through woods steep, the grass wet with the boots, leather pants soaked to the thigh. Chino among the lower branches, under the fir trees, with gray felt hat, smelled the mornings. Clean and persistent mushrooms, berries, ferns, resin. I stopped to catch his breath. And I looked around, trying to guess, among the leaves and shadows and colors misleading. I felt stronger than all, the heart throb. Among the temples, a muffled rumble in my head.
Then suddenly I saw it, that's nice dive to the heart, there. Among those blueberries head polished and shiny. I throw myself among the branches in his face and spider threads woven into the night, her hair, stumbling, slide. Up that piece of china. Then I knelt.
felt soil moisture through the fabric, brush up on his knees. I cleaned it with great care all around that beautiful fresh porcini, twigs, needles of fir, some snail.
Then I get up and light a cigarette. The smoked in the first Gurd porcine nice day.
just picked it up later. Well then modeled the hat and run away. I still crossed many rivers and streams, and swamps, climbing as far as the forest thins out. Where the larches are just the border. Between the woods and fields above, that now we are just at the border. Between cliques caracollanti cows, mostly heifers, primiparous or with the calf. The Austrian Simmenthal spotted white and brown. Our more lean and gray, brown mountain. Here you
anonymous you wrote me two lines, you have given me the need to climb a bit and go see one of the colors misleading.
Cause you know, the more often, the pig was not there. It was a mirage, just a light joke. But I was running all right. Sometimes it's a great disappointment, sometimes a little disappointment. But the surprise of discovery, or illusion, gives an emotion priceless.
I want to know who you are, you anonymous. And I do not know who you are. At least I know who you are. Drop me a line. If you do not want no public comment.

Find Miu Miu Bow Satchel

spent


Yeah I passed by chance, do not even remember the password, I had to make several attempts!
The fact is that they are a curiosity.
And this sometimes leads to trouble.
What can I do, I'm attracted by a gleam, like a magpie, ladrissima.
How many years ago when, as a kid, I woke up at dawn, perhaps after a drunk with friends, up there on my mountains. And I climbed through woods steep, the grass wet with the boots, leather pants soaked to the thigh. Chino among the lower branches, under the fir trees, with gray felt hat, smelled the mornings. Clean and persistent mushrooms, berries, ferns, resin. I stopped to catch his breath. And I looked around, trying to guess, among the leaves and shadows and colors misleading. I felt stronger than all, the heart throb. Among the temples, a muffled rumble in my head.
Then suddenly I saw it, that's nice dive to the heart, there. Among those blueberries head polished and shiny. I throw myself among the branches in his face and spider threads woven into the night, her hair, stumbling, slide. Up that piece of china. Then I knelt.
felt soil moisture through the fabric, brush up on his knees. I cleaned it with great care all around that beautiful fresh porcini, twigs, needles of fir, some snail.
Then I get up and light a cigarette. The smoked in the first Gurd porcine nice day.
just picked it up later. Well then modeled the hat and run away. I still crossed many rivers and streams, and swamps, climbing as far as the forest thins out. Where the larches are just the border. Between the woods and fields above, that now we are just at the border. Between cliques caracollanti cows, mostly heifers, primiparous or with the calf. The Austrian Simmenthal spotted white and brown. Our more lean and gray, brown mountain. Here you
anonymous you wrote me two lines, you have given me the need to climb a bit and go see one of the colors misleading.
Cause you know, the more often, the pig was not there. It was a mirage, just a light joke. But I was running all right. Sometimes it's a great disappointment, sometimes a little disappointment. But the surprise of discovery, or illusion, gives an emotion priceless.
I want to know who you are, you anonymous. And I do not know who you are. At least I know who you are. Drop me a line. If you do not want no public comment.