Court Letter Of Community Work The aroma of memories

articular seasons hotel. After months trying to instill a part of herself, suddenly struck him that effort vain, they were only a handful of heartbeats empty yards, go

ndidos the highest bidder. Or bidders. pushed the door, leaving her at the mercy of gravity. Shuffling and the desire to go, gave her a tired look around and sat on the floor, hoping that life happen from afar again, he could no humor or excuses that they knew act, and so it is impossible to give account without ending hit.

& amp; nbsp; put the mind blank and not even he was surprised how easy it was. He traveled back, despite having forgotten the time machine at home, and felt that mixture of silence and sudden changes agreed that he liked them so little when, upon entering the room , even the slightest speck of dust from the unnecessary shouting of his visit, since happiness was reached on the board for words. Just had found something that survived the test of time impassive and events. That aroma

prevailed over the clashes and benefits ofdestination, the former sometimes confused with the combination of stone and cold, the eternal return made him realize it was an unconscious reflection of the fullness that invented on the spot, in the service of his senses. But he did not care.

Tempted by a remote chance fell from heaven and hesitantly opened one of the suitcases. Almost hypnotized by his memory fell foulard that accompanied him every time he immersed himself in those lands unknown gold latitude and company ignorant of the wounds. He picked it up and inhaled as if it were a drug, it seemed ridiculousfrom his lips was larger.

parked the foulard on one side. He took paper and pen, unwanted companions that always appear when the psychologist need a consultation. What happened in that meeting occurred at the end of every road, nobody knows, so the collector of stories captured from tinted windows, apparently an aroma that day had brought lecció n most importantly learned a kamikaze impossible: remember contrails as heavily scented that should always be shared.

phrase: & iex

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Today was a special day, maybe even more than anyone else. There is no expected time forward some time ago, we have not got the clothes you are looking for the flash of the camera to remember your color when it falls faint on the rack, or holding out of the small party which became every hour. In the square garnet muses den Levant, has not been written about the time or the echo of a promise Cards slipped notes into the classroom.

And yet, today was a special day. What is each time something is born with the intention of making this world remains a potentco more livable, to confuse the soul and care for the laughter that we all know is a species on the brink of extinction. With these intentions and desire to place on record our deeds, philosophical conclusions, delusions and other surreal moments worthy of being counted, today has seen the light of this particular family blog atzavareña:

http://estounemucho.blogspot.com

In short, a space composed of eight bits, these crystals with those who see that point acid escaping reality , a puzzle of their little worlds and great compo Universe

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How long had you not feel that way? And above all, how much without that sense of fear overcomes you? Fear because over, and worst, afraid to think that never smile in truth, fear seem surreal to be on the winning side. Fear, fear, fear ... Enough! Never know who invented it, the only certainty is that it was to enslave us to any small bump on the road to find either a watch or even denial uttered by lips indifferent.

Today I feel like smiling. And I will. Free of my body, my apathy, more leathery thoughts ... Free at last myself. Today I'll play to be happy, because imagine and

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.... And he closed the door with a movement so feared must have torn a wing of the last nymph had left the room. Deep breath at the same time opened the box cartóny memories kept in a corner of his memory, to sign another on that list always swore eternal burning on any given night. If anyone asks, it would be in San Juan, the magic sprinkled salt topics tend to be easier to digest.

noticed how his mind was fleeing from the mist hidingis in the swirling music and phrases that stab of those fortunate souls who have not yet been sold. It was a breath of oxygen in the vastness of the universe. The sudden sound of a ghost, meat or weakness, returned to the reality that no one would thank that air.

With a weary gesture by the routine of unelected psychology shed his improvised words to sleep another night of sketches woven advice smiles never put in Pra ; soonest. When you look in the mirror I was surprised at how strange it was the truth: wrinkled in folds of life, adjustedhits the side of the heart.

The ominous sound of his body hitting the mattress scared the atoms of complicity handy resting after hours lighting up the environment. He seemed repetitive, a curse of playing to evade capture moments like that, who later rebelled hesitation in making their goals, freezing inside.

lived it so many times that he knew the steps, as if fate had helped to write, so I enjoyed the behind that still gave off heat

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The quote: Nothing is as easy or useful as listening to a lot - Juan Luis Vives

Lev Tahor Im Eshkachech Ramblings sun

should be a crime to waste a day, let it slip through your fingers, do not leave the bubble as a matter of existential laziness. But today I did. I closed my eyes and left me to the only caresses my skin with no starts.

I traced a perfect day and mythical phrases sugary sensations, then locked in a nebula and, given the uncertainty of what to do with such freedom, I decided to leave pinned in that line where you end up buying dreams that begin to sleep and frivolous sheetsflavored as disappointment. Today

ties snatched the license is only reserved for interesting lives with something to tell the coffee hour, and stopped all: eternal circles, dancing lights and smoke, the imperatives ... even freeze the sun above him on the whim hearing the news of tacit meetings, farewells taken from a portal of utopias and other delusions of excess sanity.

routine threw the hand away and hid. Today would not be cowardice, but the right to existgo beyond the chessboard. Today was the day to find the exact formulation of perfect awakening, did not see the alarm exile across the border?

And so, emptying the mind wandering, because of no use if no one hears them and smile, I realized that making ends meet with the silhouette of his fingers against the dim light of the forbidden is sometimes spelled better.

phrase: People believed to be immortal, so they stay still and take refuge in a rut, staying there paralyzed - Felix de Azua CHTML

Redoing Fireplace Facing Taciturnidad.

HTMLXC taciturnity is a passing feeling and a choice: to ride out the storm or the full itinerary as you prefer or need. Silence

voluntary versus phrases full of anything and everything that makes us dummies, the stooped posture, hiding a look that gets choked between councils that seem orders, out of a ma machine as cold as the guests, playing is the background noise prisióny who aspires to be a dialogue, his jailer. Wish away, run away from the programmed phrases and emotions written protocol that stifles and scribbles silk praises French perfume.

& nbsp; Seconds leaking between ideals no idea what living. Some wrap themselves in the middle boards for Crystal Palace. That voice which, though subdued, is balanced in our ears, begging for a shell that comes in the form of silence. That's taciturnity.

And in the midst of it appeared one of those songs worth the park this world for a moment

The phrase is better to be king of your silence slave to your words - William Shakespeare

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to our lives.

The phrase in the heart of every winter living a vibrant spring - Khalil Gribran