in the street should have gone the sun, because the clarity of my room is excessive. The crutch that is the right has a small notch, almost imperceptible, on the handle. If I have to be disciplined will be. Notched crutch, right, crutch without notch, the left. Here we go. The corridor makes me very long. I have not much strength. I'm big, a bit tall and thin, skeleton, but small in physical strength.
When you reach the second door in the hallway I came souvenir alubión less appropriate for this time. From age eleven to eighteen, I lived in a boarding school. At first, I beat some guys. All were stronger than me. All. One day I discovered that I was much stronger than them and could with his bravado and males. I could with the mind. I convinced them without a word, that the real strength is in the arms or legs. I looked into his eyes and down the forehead like an ox. My life in boarding ... my heart pumps blood becomes waterlogged black and thick. A clot chokes me and I get tears. But I must not mourn. Do not mourn.
I like being alone. My way of being so natural. I like being with friends and some relatives, but soon tired of everyone. I prefer the solitude of my room, the solitude of my walks, the loneliness of my solitude. Back to my bed tired and I take a book. I had to walk with crutches, like turkey, fourteen feet between the departure and return and sweat as if he had dug a trench. I eat more ham and sausage, as my father died.
If rented rooms there will be much movement of people, lots of people moving in and out of the house. Good news: people come. Bad news: people come. No. .. I'd rather be alone, always alone as are the dead. In solitude I have the advantage of not disturbing others and also be the master, the love of my damn country. Whenever I had someone close to me, in any sense, always, was painful.
I do not want anyone to come. All alone, like when I saw her at the subway station with a cigarette in the right corner of the lips ...
- you give me fire, please?
- Claro. Grab my lighter. Smoke Chesterfield unfiltered. I thought we were not.
- Take a pick. If you look, they find themselves. Thanks. Nice lighter.
- Beautiful eyes. She
. She was y. .. What is life if not used?
When you reach the second door in the hallway I came souvenir alubión less appropriate for this time. From age eleven to eighteen, I lived in a boarding school. At first, I beat some guys. All were stronger than me. All. One day I discovered that I was much stronger than them and could with his bravado and males. I could with the mind. I convinced them without a word, that the real strength is in the arms or legs. I looked into his eyes and down the forehead like an ox. My life in boarding ... my heart pumps blood becomes waterlogged black and thick. A clot chokes me and I get tears. But I must not mourn. Do not mourn.
I like being alone. My way of being so natural. I like being with friends and some relatives, but soon tired of everyone. I prefer the solitude of my room, the solitude of my walks, the loneliness of my solitude. Back to my bed tired and I take a book. I had to walk with crutches, like turkey, fourteen feet between the departure and return and sweat as if he had dug a trench. I eat more ham and sausage, as my father died.
If rented rooms there will be much movement of people, lots of people moving in and out of the house. Good news: people come. Bad news: people come. No. .. I'd rather be alone, always alone as are the dead. In solitude I have the advantage of not disturbing others and also be the master, the love of my damn country. Whenever I had someone close to me, in any sense, always, was painful.
I do not want anyone to come. All alone, like when I saw her at the subway station with a cigarette in the right corner of the lips ...
- you give me fire, please?
- Claro. Grab my lighter. Smoke Chesterfield unfiltered. I thought we were not.
- Take a pick. If you look, they find themselves. Thanks. Nice lighter.
- Beautiful eyes. She
. She was y. .. What is life if not used?
0 comments:
Post a Comment