des and those are two things very bad, more the former than the latter. In fact, I think the latter is a consequence of the first and so I may strive to be first because of the latter. Conclusion: I'm not going anywhere because I'm stupid. Spirals of life.
"We are trapped in a spiral of ridiculous," Elena told him on Sunday. And it always involved in situations just as stupid. Of course everything is relative. The seamstress had a parrot on the shelf of his shop, the man shouted market their offerings without rest for three minutes cientoochenta seconds equal to the postman always check the box "absent" in the certificate without bothering to ring the bell. The word "normal" does not resolve nada.
begin to assume that I am a person unable to communicate. All I am full of thoughts, feelings and desires scattered when they try out, become a shapeless mass and unintelligible to anyone who is listening to me. So I opt for the easy path of failure and return to the idea of going out with a slate on which to write everything in an orderly manner, with dashes, periods, commas, and, of course, tildes. Or fall into a deep amnesia and I communicate through a xylophone. I have not decided yet.
If there is something that unnerves me interrupt me when I write my frustrations with the entire cyberspace without shame. And is about to happen.
I'm going to sew for anyone.
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