mardi 17 décembre 2013
in
every thing there is a bit of armor , a little cross, a bit of me, a
little weight, some cut flowers to go do what can be done in a month
because then we can not enter the
door is blocked for the simple reason that everything is in a specific
order , first the elders who come in the morning, then children who
marvel at the christmas decorations , but I am no longer a child and I 'm
not old , so I can do tricks to try not immediately go wrong, I
understand what you mean, do always do , do not stop , continue, because
what is lacking is essentially,
this little yellow square that I am not able to leave the room because I
lack certainty it must be done before or after the period of creation
when we get lost in ignorance of reality when alone
is that is takes to Mozart or Elton John , but that 's not it , I need
to do more to pay attention to while taking what is pure and I make the
surface not
to go too deeply for fear of meeting monsters, I do not know pretend it
I must be true , so what if I'm toast for the rest of my life, I 'm in a
circle since I was
born , should I get out, I am able to live alone, these are the
questions I ask myself is not like before , it becomes more and more
funny, more it goes the more I laugh, everything
is white , be careful , it can come from anywhere, I never thought to
get there, people everywhere, pressure sensitive , and the sea which is
not in the same attitude as earth,
for it is capable of flowing liquid so that the earth blocks the door,
we can neither leave nor enter , wait one wants to sit well to think, it
is a cross that ride
, I do not know what to do , should I watch for failing to take in the
figure, but now it could be that I'm still beyond that
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