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In general everything was dirty. Then a cocaine addict uncle rebuked him the blonde and all feared that hit him, but ultimately did not and was just another funny story to tell. There are always many stories, stories say that the more one is more aware of what is worthwhile and what is not, of what transcends and what not, but always stories like when we do meditation, raise the costs of O Grove at home with a cold of carallo down a dark street, wind shear of the mountain when you can almost touch the clouds, the sea so transparent as a mirror you burns the skin, that talk to that went to Ivan dond

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I have a new song but yours. Also all these stars that fall above the princess and me tonight that runs to the infinite, the sweat of my brow as I run, one kilometer, another, another, another to get away, to speed to fly. I keep running, as the lord of the film that runs well, but I'm not moving as I run and others are on my side but they can never run with me. The question is always the sweat that was yours and only appears when I run because any memory of that other thing that made me sweat breaks my chest and I can not let that happen, because I haverun and keep running until I move but not be so far, so high that nobody can make me fall. Running so fast that nobody can ever catch up. Looking back, I laugh, I laugh very hard, stick my hair blows in the face, because it turns out, I'm running in circles. And you do not know what is written inside? You did very very small.