Today, with my legs buried in the mud, I have romantic. I no longer urinate myself at night. The sheets aren’t become stiff.
Today is misundertanding the gestures, the lines are crossed. The haughties are resting, the minds are impetuous.
Today I don’t sleep, no spasms, no myoclonus. Today begins a recomposition of erasmus.
Although the lungs will be collapsed, even the field extends over and over again, even the Madrid and Fiorentina have win. I need a red card to fail the penalty.
Is it possible to have the lightness of homesickness?
This is just to begin to boring a saint. To make the transition a better place to find an aim, to decide how to grow. Today I’m going to mix sentences with alcohol.
Copenhagen, the trip may be long. Today I listen to Vetusta Morla, now I’m living in Copenhagen. Today (…). beginning in wordpress.
Comensalismo 