The Villa –Part 2 Norn "Starting the same time, I felt a stunning and heartbreaking. God knows why my intelligence and my musings on the curtain fell. Hours does not do well to emphasize that the heart of a lion but got Padre. Suite too poor, beaten subject, which was running my soul. Where was the condition of the subjects of the abundance and delicately fashioned flair scratch would take the pot. Imagine if a bird flies in the sky where the star was created and now it's depressing! The Karun poverty! But what are the reasons? What is the punishment for misbehavior. Another name for the work world. Why do not we get the answer, the heart does not have any patience, even to death, has to answer the why. After I consulted a doctor. He generally sticks like doctors - advised to air. It is also possible to come to my intelligence that sticks Neonatal cold - air has been cooled by the fire of poetry. A six-month rotating continuously - it kept flying. Many fascinating views, but they do not explain poetic soul he wished that the cup may overflow and silent imagery began Chine itself. I did not get your lost red. Now I was with life. Looks like dry desert where no life now I do not know, no refreshment, not interested. Always at heart a disappointment - C remains grim and heart absentminded fails. The question arises whether, in the heart of the four-day wonder moonlight and darkness came over with? Bear from his company, Hemlines face of hate, I was lying in an obscure corner was the days of my life. Being on the tops of the trees, the sweet melody of the singing bird can live in a cage? It is possible that the grain eating, drinking water, but there is a difference in her life and death. So I'm dead, this condition is too stupid to understand her alive. After I killed a day gave her some daily papers. Publish the chaos in the country, suffered a panic. At that moment I realized some of its popularity. It was the common cry, the poetry of the world's river craft sank into trouble. Dislocated poetry party. Letter - magazines in my biography I read all published his invention of the editors - had to coax intelligence. Neither I nor the son of a rich silver spoon I had taken Fakir excluding the cushion. His imagination was seized on reality. A boss of my friends, who claimed intimacy with me, drink me - had made love to feed. Whenever he met me, they see my eyes red from drunk counteracted. Later in this article notwithstanding the bad habit of mine, he was very clean from the stern heartedness - scrawny man could say such a fun lion. Nevertheless surprising that they Shrine dare say the wrong thing.
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