. . . write us in the morning, at noon, at night. . . especially at night, glittering night when th

***** So I am at home with the (classmate) Veronica, what his real name is a little different, and I have her 'own' the most 'Veronica' a bit like a disguise starfish craft ... 'Gypsy lying' I wanted to suggest that we have no right (momentálně!) in an apartment completely full (and high) naklizeno starfish craft ... A typing on a computer ... same (as we say in unison now) shit ... She just something about the Code of Ethics, waiting for me post of Monogamy ... Sigh while like an old whore and make me clean from the 'neojebal' (the eventual gold fluid so I had a maximum of four majors), write (for calming the nerves) this frantic post ... I just dopřeložil but this piece of Carver: --- "This is definitely the auction house," she said to the boy. This girl and this boy had just arranged the small apartment. "How could they want in bed," she said. "And telly," the boy said. The boy turned his car into the driveway and stopped in front of the kitchen table. They got out and started to view things: the girl gently touched muslin fabrics, the boy joined the mixer outlet and turned the knob to mow, girl lifted warming dish, the boy turned on the television and tried to tweak the image. starfish craft He sat down on the couch to watch. He lit a cigarette and looked around. Matches tossed into the grass. The girl sat on the bed. She took off her shoes and relax. She felt as if she saw a star. "Come here, Jack. Experiment with this bed. And get one of those pillows." "What is?" he asked. "Try it," she said. He looked around. The house was dark. "I kind of weird," he said. "I'd better see if anyone starfish craft is home." Zapérovala girl on the bed as a trampoline. "First Come try it," she said. He lay down on the bed and put a pillow under his head. "What is?" she asked. "Fixed." She turned on her side, her hands covered his face. "Give me a kiss," she said. "Get up," he said. "Mouth," she said. She closed her eyes and hugged him. "I'll see if anyone is home," the boy said. Then he just stood and sat on the bed. He did, watching television. In homes across the street lights came on. "It might be interesting if," said the girl, a cheerful grin and did not finish the sentence. The boy laughed, starfish craft but, curiously. God - knows - why the boy lit table lamp. The girl chased the mosquito, and he stood up and put his shirt. "I'll see if anyone is home," starfish craft he said. "I do not think anyone will be home., But if it is, so I ask how much they want the beauty here." "Whatever you say anything, you always offer ten dollars less. It always takes. And I think that will probably be in a desperate situation, they are very badly." "It's pretty good telly," the boy said. "Then find out the price," she said.
. . . write us in the morning, at noon, at night. . . especially at night, glittering night when the senses are sharpened, and the Earth is falling stardust. . . Typography 1: André Langer andre.langer @ seznam.cz 2 Author: Vojtěch Petrik vojtech.pet @ seznam.cz
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