Can I Use Ilife With Blogger

We shared two

Sometimes in the morning, when it was absorbed by a solitary task, just busy picking mushrooms or raspberries, or sewing, or reading a book of philosophy that bothered him, but he had to cultivate for himself, or read with interest the letter and ashamed of the heart or a women's weekly horoscope, she got suddenly whispered tenderly two words, without meaning to, without thinking of him. My love, she got on murmur. You see, my darling, "she said then the absentee, you see, even when I do not think about you, that I think of you.

A. Cohen ,

Belle du Seigneur

What Should I Wear On An Ice Skating Date

Merry Christmas!

"Suddenly, I have a dreadful urge to Be Merry"

Click to enlarge

Charles Addams

(from My crowd )

What To Do The First Day Of Retirement

The Haunted Tea-Cosy @ Edward Gorey

Edmund Gravel, a misanthropic old bachelor, is preparing to celebrate one as usual this Christmas Eve, while sipping a cup of tea and a slice of pudding very stale (" from The Last One He Had Received More than a decade ago" ), when the tea-cozy very useful to keep the tea warm for hours s' escaped a strange creature: (click to enlarge)

"I am the Bahhum bug"! and I'm here to help you discover "The Interest of didacticism !

(roughly the interest that one has to look around, it's so informative, is not it, especially on Christmas Eve!)

Thereupon a second character to -like spectrum knocking.

"I'll show you particularly touching scene."

As we at Edward Gorey is not it, do not expect sweet ...

Orphans, abandoned dogs, paintings flew, strange strange ...

spectrum takes them in thought or a flying carpet all over the village where astounding scenes, not really endearing unfold before their eyes (Alma Crumble broke his wrist while kneading the dough vigorously pudding, for example!).

Enough, Will heinous in character, it directs the chafer tea cozy. Comes another spectrum, which promises this time quite scary scenes ... Of course, from bad to worse ...

Appears at once the vision of a kidnapped by Alfreda Crumble Gypsies, while in the cemetery were dug up a coffin in a freshly dug grave containing very mysterious old newspapers ....

Enough, enough! Another spectrum appears, "this time I'll make you see the scene at heartbreaking."

better and better, as you note.

" To the house opposite Fido WAS Returned From The taxidermist and Set Down by the fireplace. "

It does not take over our old misanthrope to start , terrified, into writing a small stack of invitations ... Like what, the effect did not wait ..

The Fall of the story? Gorey's pure, of course!

In fact the subtitle of the story was:

A dispirited and distasteful diversion for Christmas.

If you would have doubted:)
After all these emotions, I do not know about you, but I'd rather have a cup of tea ...

How Much Are Tshirts In Singapore

Days toxic Roxana Robinson

Julia Lamberts, Professor of Art New York artist in his own right, receives her parents for a few days in the old homestead in Maine she has patched up with her ex husband and she keeps carefully as the receptacle of all the years, the fortunate ones childhood of his son, they also lost her wedding .... I must say it is struggling to rebuild her life, Julia ... And his father, a brilliant neurosurgeon retired, older now, it does not facilitate the task, always cynical, hard and quick to blame more or less hidden. But they are there now, and will do everything to make them enjoyable few days of vacation despite the tension that already installed. Rapid chain of events and not for the better ... His eldest son come around without warning, strange ... to teach him, by ellipses, as Jack, the youngest, shoots himself to heroin ... All

collapses.

Atmosphere camera family where tensions are exacerbated when the unspoken explode have been suppressed for so long. All will have to speak or learn to do to try to save Jack, family therapy is taking place, in spite of themselves. Roxana Robinson excels

to stage what could be a tragedy theatrical - almost unity of place, time and action, including some violent flashback on the descents into hell Jack. But more so I deeply etched in this novel bitter and hard, it is the reflection on the body, its importance and forfeiture which runs throughout the narrative as the weft of the carpet ... The body as a "presence" on the other, the vector itself to be more than just a receptacle.

" How is it, she thought, that when someone sees all the thoughts and emotions of the disembodied person in this aggregate figure, this presence? How the body manages Is it contain all the density be? "The body just

which inevitably deteriorates as a result of old age, disease or drugs ... The body which blunted not only changes our relationship to others, but also same perception we have of themselves and each other ...

Old age that carries all, while it sacked the body, like the tide erodes and wears down to the bone, before withdraw.

" Those persons no longer existed. His father was now barely able to walk, his mother struggled painfully to follow the conversation. His parents were being adrift, engaged in a losing battle against their bodies and minds. the tide went out. "

And drugs, drugs that changes things from the point of not being able to recognize them ... The drug, such as old age, in short, but accelerated.

A very novel and exciting, uncompromising and decidedly not cure your blues to soul ...

Editions Buchet Chastel

- September 2010

Visio Boat Designs Boat Template

Shrines @ @ ardent Katherine Mosby

When Willard Daniels Winsville reinvests his property in Virginia, who is married longer, the little town no longer has eyes only for this couple strangely alien-like.

must say that Vienna, the young bride, stands out in this provincial middle and narrow. Very quickly, it is available, we pin and is jealous ... Is not this "blue Lower New York who had two years of college behind her and stripped from Paris, who could play the piano and spoke foreign languages, who had blond hair and a woman Cleanroom, shoes and gloves for different times of the day, a marble bust of Quintilian and four trunks full of books - more than in the rest of Winsville. . "Just think, a rare bird that does not condescend to stay for tea and flies away at every opportunity ...

Willard and Vienna had two children before the master of the house from escaping in turn, leaving her alone with the whole field to manage ...

Far from "falling into line", now fled Vienna contact with micro Winsville company, exclusively engaged since his long poem (" supposed to imitate an epic Virgil by the structure, the magnitude Dante and Pope at the bottom, it announced ambitious timidly but ironically "), education of his children, or culture of its trees ... All without a academic ounce.
" In this way, it had reached a singular equilibrium, in which the brain and the secular intertwined physically and spiritually as the crossed arms carved fruit trees. It was modeled on the trees she knew and loved, and imitated the genius of nature that allowed them to be firmly anchored into the ground by the force of gravity, while crowning the sky, embracing at the same time the earth and the heavens. "
Willa and Elliot, children, growing up between readings in Latin and walks through the acres of property, hyper little savages cultivated and heightened sensitivity.

But what about a mother who places books more than any top and certainly well beyond religion:

" Promise me that you read them, he had muttered Vienna one day, raising his hand to show the rows of volumes which lined his office. They can save you. "

Trees, books, and a look at times, mad ... mad with grief, in fact, life definitely it does not make her gift ... But

mad, the term is dropped and more than once. Mad for 'different', the drama is there and the misfortunes that follow. How can we be different in a world so small, so full of prejudice without going crazy for the house. The house and gardens as a whole. This woman can fix the harelip another forward, while others look away in disgust ...

This long look, indecent to others, will forever mark, one that we deal with cripple

" To act as a stranger, I think must be someone special. So remember, being different does not make you someone special, but being special someone makes you different . "

The rest of the book is in the light of this sentence, between humanism , exuberance and pride to remain one while you are at the bottom of self in the most complete extravagance, a good kick to the conventions of diehard.

And in the foreground, of course, childhood personified by Willa and Elliot, two young fanatics in the image of their mother, eccentric and deeply endearing.

" You see her little hands? She asks, Buba. This means that there must be a God even if the bees die when they pray! "exclaimed Elliot, ignited ...

Exciting, touching, moving, dramatic, you will not soon forget Vienna, Willa, still less the little Elliot, the last page of the book tour.

Ardent, yes, the good term ... As for Sanctuary, you'll see why ...

" The important thing here, now. Paradise is the Chopin nocturne you just play the piano, these are the fields and trees that have heard. This is not the future that you have to whisper, but the present. "

The brown:" A color so melancholy, like the back of a sparrow: it is the perfect color of regret. "

Editions Quai Voltaire - September 2010

Should I Wear My Hair Down In A Sweater Dress

The many lives of Frankenstein @ Andre-Francois Ruaud

Frankenstein or the creature seamed stole the name, the star and immortality to its creator, Dr. Victor Frankenstein, now forgotten ...

monster without a name, never named, yet it ends in the collective imagination by endorsing the surname of his "father" cursed, robbing him at once his name and his life.

And yet, without Victor, no creature, the irony .... It was time to make justice and finally emerge from the shadows where they were buried deep life and destiny of those who gave birth to one of the most famous monsters of our history, one that the image God gave life from nothing.

For Victor Frankenstein did exist, of course, like his monster elsewhere. They made that cross, God be praised for posterity, destiny a small splinter group also well known, the clan of Shelley, Byron and Polidori.

So get ready to know all or most of the birth of Victor through the creation of the monster to Frankenstein's tragic end in the middle of the polar ice ... What about the monster, the eternal, the legends about him succeed, but it could well have survived.

double game, con game, a huge game anyway and forth and death between Victor and his monster like an incessant play of mirrors, one chasing the other, before the roles are s' reverse. But how Mary Shelley said she would witness a beautiful day while she was staying in the now famous Villa Diodati become? The answer and assumptions (supported) between these pages devilishly exciting the pen of Andrew Francis advised Ruaud ...

Accurate, documented, illustrated, these " Many Lives of Frankenstein " devour in one go and make you want to dive back illico between the pages of Mary Shelley, whose life was also surprising that a novel (which modernity, what misfortunes cascades also ...).

short, a real treat!

Note, The many lives Frankenstein is the eighth volume of The Library Red of Electric Sheep . Collection a bit special and how gratifying as it proposes to us to discover or rediscover the great figures of popular literature in the form of biographies, exactly, yes, as if these characters had actually existed ...

Delighted by this discovery (I actually eyeing for some time this collection), I just got The many lives of Miss Marple Baudou of Jacques, I could not escape it!)

A big thank you to Critical Mass Babelio for this beautiful and monstrous discovery!

Editions Electric Sheep

Carving Foam Large Blocks

We must believe in And a smile

" You know, sometimes when you laugh, it sounds like you cry "

Camille smiled as he said that, a casual air, aimlessly accurate. Lola does not know what to do: net stop his laughter, his smile hangs hesitant. Gosh, he guessed, pesta internally Lola. I'm so transparent that? It is true that it will not, at this moment, especially with George. It is remote. And even when he is there by Lola, it is absent, he said nothing. It looks like a puppet. A scarecrow with a false heart, a heart that beats setbacks.

Camille and Lola met last year. She remembers it like it was yesterday, it was the first day of school: Camille Lola had rushed down a hallway of the university, apologized then presented, and since then, they were inseparable.

He told her pretty things, she made him laugh. His skin was soft and he smelled of peppermint. His hands were hot as a bread from the oven, but her laughter was chilled to the heart. A blow hot, blow cold one. Sometimes she just wanted him to be silent the rest of the time, does not see or hear it hurt too much to Lola. She wanted to shake him by the shoulders, telling him to stop being so good and beautiful, to be as wild and unstable. Anyway, it would not have taken seriously. He did not take seriously. She quickly began to tremble, to think about him all the time, for a song, a smell, a phrase she had read it somewhere. And when she realized it, she blamed herself terribly. It was a disrespect! A banging against the walls. She could hate in those moments. Think of it, while George is there any cons it! so close he could hear another boy love him ...

" It does not show too much, I hope? From the outside, I mean ... "

" No, do not worry, I'm the only "

Camille, the only one who can read Lola as an open book ... They continue to talk, to laugh. The tram arrives sliding along the sidewalk. It is time, time to say goodbye. Lola sighed softly, thinking of the night ahead. Camille takes the hand of Lola, the greenhouse slowly and his eyes are awfully tired. Lola gets on the tram, a bit dazed. They follow the gaze while the tram restarts.

But George stands behind Lola, he wanted to surprise him and wait at the station. He saw everything without understanding. After a few minutes, Lola turns around and looks at: the tears stream down his cheeks reddened and her makeup was a little cast. And thin.

He knows .

Digitel Playground Movies

Sophie still smoked. It has all the pupils dilated. They devour the room, you can not see it.

Earlier, she was crouched in a bathroom on the floor in shades of blue, and swore it was the last time. The last time she smoked? Or the last time she thought of Paul? She watched the rise and scrolls lick the ceiling. It made her think of him, again. And she caught herself thinking about him just by watching this. Smoke. What's the fucking report? Ah yes. Paul is vanishing . It is there when he wants, every other day, when it takes him, when he wants to be told pretty things. And there she is, she waits. It the awaits. The Misfortunes of Sophie, you talk.

Then she pulled herself together and tried to think of something else. She looked straight ahead. Under the sink, He ran a huge mess. An old box cakes from Brittany, a candle, a curling iron, medicines. She saw her reflection in the pipes. A huge head with a tiny body. "Welcome to the world of Sophie" she hissed between his teeth. Throat full of smoke, she resolved to read the user manual for a shampoo that was lying. For hair dull and flat, Cien haircare, fruit acid . Bingo, she did not think Paul for the space of a minute. It should have read slower.

She said she felt like crying, just like that. But she never succeeded crying while smoking. God knows why. And then she did not want the evening ends, to go to bed alone and cold in his sheets. Not sleepy. Never again, never sleep. never sleep without him .

It was relative: it was his birthday. You go out there, Soph. It's not every day you turn nineteen years. Then she went out the door creaked behind her. With it, the ashtray.

And a smile.

Average Height Female

A pound of flesh

For my birthday, my mother gave me a pocket watch, she knows that I like antiques. It is a mechanism skeleton, we see all the cogs turning and the keys move. The second hand does not jump jerkily, she slips on the dial, as free. I wore it to my ear. I always hated ticking watches. But his ticking to it, it's magic, light and fluid ... I have already readjusted several times an hour. The mechanism is fragile. On the manual, it says that we should not turn too strong as possible.

Vella, transparent and sensitive. Look no. The pocket watch is me.

Invisible While Facebook

separate living and dead

"How do you do to cope? "You asked me this once. At first, I did not know what to say - indeed I was not even aware that I could take, I was there, that's all. At first I thought I had just managed to be a little more courageous. But ultimately it was not a question of bravery, when I think. I let myself be walked on, I'm lying on the floor of the bathroom, quintals of tissues in each fist, and I let time pass. I looked without seeing the tiny grains of sand falling over each other in the hourglass. I saw that I was getting older when the leaves began to redden and the trees were bare. In my room it smelled of sugar. My whole house smelled of sugar. Even today it m'abrutit, it intoxicates me. But I know now what I did to cope. I thought all these little things, all these little nothings . So small before they slipped to avoid being seen, not felt. Surprise a beautiful boy who surreptitiously watching you, drink hot chocolate with friends, or hot tea while reading a good book to roll in the grass, eat something too fatty or too spicy, but having tasted, have felt all the aromas and secrets, read a beautiful love letter (and even non -love); cry in front of a turnip U.S.; cry in front of an onion being peeled, crying tears of joy taste water sea, leaving the hairdresser with a large smile and open a big beautiful wrapping the day of his birthday, give up everything and do it properly tear (and blow out the candles too, it feels good) to pass a line of eyeliner impeccable go to the cellar for some wine and stay white little longer to feel the clean laundry that comes out of the machine; afford a new bag and want them because the closet is already overflowing, buy vinyl and attend the ceremony of turntables, the thirty dance-three towers squeezed tight against the diamond whistling response (hello doll, you sing well) make love to a boy who smells like hot sand, as in the song, watch his sisters and be happy to realize that they like, loving someone, hate someone and love it.

And feel loved, supported, like you worry, there. I like your head when you're sad, it's human?

Why British Wearing Rose

Just disfigured

Russian Dolls

They had met at a jazz concerto, in the suburbs St. Louis. They still had music to the ears, it could not end so abruptly. Then they went home, it was just next door. They listened to the vinyls Chloe sipping cognac.

He wanted, she wanted too. He was alone, she was not pretty.

And then when Charlie woke up, he began a long time to realize he was not home, but in a strange bed, smelling of lavender and a brass saxophone. He turned to Chloe. She had a completely different face to the light, which pierced the shutters lazily. His hair was blond brassy and framed an oval face, perfect. His lips stretched into a very rosy smile frozen and shaken by sleep. His eyelids were moving translucent fringe of his eyelashes. Charlie could tell he was hiding two globes curious, green bottle. From his temple to his chin digging the mark of the pillow. Adorable.

It was perhaps not so trivial after all.

Quietly, he raised himself on his elbow and threw a glance at the bedside. Under the lamp Rococo lay a copy of One Hundred Years of loneliness. The salon was

full of old books smelled of dust and surrounded by photographs of small wooden frames. Pieces of life.

Finally, he longed to know, that Chloe. He had planned to slip away, without leaving his number, as usual. But a girl named Chloe, like the song Ellington, how can it be like all the others, eh?

So good. Everyone can make mistakes. At night, all cats are gray. I guess the girls too.

Can Althea Pills Remove Acne?

the strong desire to take

L'auberge espagnole

It's raining outside.

Lucas holds the camera. We hear the laughter in the video. They sing. Very wrong, but they do not care, after all they are not there for that. They sing very loud, and when the music stops to let his place barely cooled to another, their ears ringing painfully. Lisa has the voice that goes wrong, it's a lot Garance laugh. It smells alcohol banana, Lisa, anyway she still feels the sugar. She dances with small, jerky movements with his grace all its own. His big green eyes laughing louder than his throat, and it's beautiful to see.

Rain sign a truce.

They burn a cigarette near the pavilion in the garden. Leaning over the wall, they whispered little things, a smile. They are often, but Garance has always dreams to tell, the books advise, criticize movies, gossip to spill ... And sometimes they do not even need to talk. Lisa smiles again. Winston hung his lips, like a little firefly, gives an unflappable air and wild.

"It is notorious around here at night. I know a girl who was attacked in the corner over there. "

One last puff and the cigarette falls a few feet below, in a small shower of sparks.

"Beware of cactus! "

Lisa turned, his face is bathed in light and shadow. She is very beautiful. Garance wants to take her in his arms but Lisa already short to return.

The rain has returned.

Sahara Slate Touch-it I215

Small handkerchiefs

Dear Francesco,

I do not know what language to write you then try the language of Molière, after all, is the language of the Enlightenment, to paraphrase another. Do you remember our first meeting? Was film. I was trying to make me a bun, hairpins stuck between my lips. The chair was a dirty color, that of an overripe raspberry, it was also the weakness, I could not resist slipping. The room smelled of sugar popcorn that littered the steps dotted with small blue bulbs. I heard a hook was your foot down just a little grain of corn. I watched you in the dark, your eyes were blue. It's crazy, especially for brown eyes like yours. The film unrolled his films and I felt your eyes on me that burned my neck. And then the movie ended, you were gone. Days and weeks passed, I saw you at the cafe, shopping mall, the florist and again at the cinema for a film in Peru. You have offered a cigarette, me a drink, and no one has ever separated. When you learn my name, you've repeated dozens of times looking at me, and in your mouth that does not sound like me. You drove the letters in your full lips, between your teeth and hissing a little apart, and no one ever shouted at me like that, like a poem all white. And now, like a souffle from the oven, everything falls, you forgot my name. And then your eyes in the dark no longer blue, it has picked up the popcorn. It's like you've never been there. Say I dreamed?

So what. I wait.

Signed Annabelle, Annabelle, Annabelle, Annabelle ...

November 6 What Happened To Fakku.net

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Cheaterskorean moviewatch Free

dream I speak We can not know me

I did not have enough money to take a taxi, so I asked my way, once, twice. In the end, I wandered a few hours in the blizzard that smelled of fish, before stopping, stomach shouting caffeine. Near the docks of Liverpool, I met a man who looked as if fascinated vessels sinners. It was pathetic with his childish eyes, a basket of chips lap. The tips of her fingers were red from the cold, barely heated by the warm, thin potatoes that led to his mouth, small mouth shaped o. Me, I was on the other hand, I waited my Ceylon, a Dumas on the table in faux marble. And then he got up, threw his empty tray and entered the cafe. Radio spent a Kinks song, I forget which. He ordered an Irish coffee and went to sit facing the bay. He watched the boats pass, and dockworkers cry, a thin smile stretched his lips chapped by the cold. He gnawed fingernails, ignoring the server who brought him his coffee. When I left, there was still unaffected. I walked past the trash docks, there was his little plastic tray. I looked around, I even looked at if it does not float on the wave of gray Mersey. No. Good. So maybe I invented it all, ultimately.

Welcome Message For The Groom

Address

I want to never be born, reborn still often when the rains break the stars of heaven forever. It's a beautiful agony as the man who wants to be, expressing all the will he can, talking to himself in secret his sweet artificial language ...

I once believed the soul, that which lies beyond the image of plastic and concrete under my skin is agitated, pulling the entrails of a whole generation during major depression in the world . I once believed in love, for a second when he got up from any his imposing figure, frail, sickly, so undermined ... And he told me! Love said:

"What am I? See what men have made me a moor full of putrid flesh and vanities!"

I cried for the Mozart Requiem. Love has played well for me. He said then he left, fled as the wind whistles in your ear or the omen the omen of the turn. Then I lifted my turn to him and cried because it was too far away to hear me whisper, whisper it, because it is a regular address to the Love and I shouted to the angel beat and I told Love:

"Look what you've done men! A forest of lost souls, wandering in hopeless maze that is the heart of the universe endowed with spirit! Love, Thou who slays the darkness of your infinite goodness, would not you also the one who went to bed one night at my bedside, harmless, for better hang myself when my weapon went mistrust? Love! Do you was what I drank my blood precious by ten, hundred, thousand times? Love is in my kind that I am sending you these words, Thou who art only fatalities, little deaths and immense despair, you, who we nausea scales up, we change yourself first, you better recognize! We were stupid enough to deceive us about your multiple accounts, but you've made the mistake we did not light up! "

And as it touched the howl of rage Love in its midst, he came by my window, looked at me and decided, anger deprive me of it all right to love and be loved. He invoked the strongest forces in which one can think here, then, profoundly shocked, he returned to other horizons.

Until that day in September, I had loved the truth. What can I tell if I like today? In any case, I I feel appreciated. And love it still sees offended because his grip on my heart is no longer - the butterflies fall, stiff as soon as they cross the boundaries of my will - I have overcome the Love! I do not like if I do say love.

And Love has only to wither again, I am sharing what I refuse his blessing as his futile passions.

Broken Capillaries Underneath The Eye

few words which, so far, me mysteriously banned

I Love You Phillip Morris

The following ranged on the table a vase flowers and wax candles, whose reflections dancing red and yellow and blue silk curtains at the bedside of the sick.

"Do you, Mariette, he will come? - Oh! Sleep, sleep a little, madam! - Yes, I sleep soon to dream about him all eternity. "They heard someone

upstairs. "Ah! if it was him! "Murmured the dying woman, smiling, butterfly tombs already on the lips.

was a little page who brought from the Queen to the Duchess, jams, biscuits and elixirs on a silver platter.

"Ah! it does not come, "she said in a faltering voice, he will not come! Marietta, give me one of those flowers that I breathe and kisses for his sake! "Then Madame de

Montbazon, closing his eyes, remained motionless. She died for love, making his soul in the scent of a hyacinth.

A. Bertrand , Gaspard de la Nuit

Polaris Sportsman Accessories

The big house uninhabitable

(inspired Lord of the Flies and The foam days )

Roman crouched against the door with as little noise as possible. It was what he usually did when the crisis came: he stared at the doorframe with a cold eye, focused on the pulse of his heart he felt the beating in his temples and even at his fingertips, under nails. He closed the door after requesting a break to Marylou who was beginning to make her scenes and had simply hoped it would suffice. But it was behind the door, his eyes wet and desolate. Him, he did not know of course, hear nothing, because his breathing became difficult and heavy groans escaped from his throat dry, tired. It smelled like dust bunnies in his lungs, as clusters of sharp stones. Or as water lilies that took all the space.

He heard a popping noise and he knew that it was part of his head that was closed, it was nothing learned. He opened the door of a single gesture Marylou and nearly fell. She Catinat, soft-spoken and sweet, followed him up the medicine chest. Roman took the small tube of eye drops yellow - "+ + hallucinatory ophthalmologist" - and two Propofan in the little green box.

Later, in the kitchen, it smelled like fajitas and decrescendo migraine went away, but Roman was always this strange feeling - the water lilies.

In the darkness of the room, he took his hat for a head cut and his pajamas for a headless body. His eyes always saw things that did not exist, which could not exist. Through the window he saw the bakery around the corner that closed shop. Hot bread, think of warm bread. He burst into tears and found him asleep Marylou like that, sitting at the window, fingers in his ears as if to protect it from exploding, or not to hear the evidence.

He had a little blood on his hands.

Rubbermaid Warehouse Sale

Corps Ready

Wednesday fourteen hours. I sat in the auditorium, as always in the background but not too much on the right side. From there I could see almost everyone. The course of Mr. C. began, he made us laugh - as usual, his shoes creaked on the beige linoleum and he apologized flatly, with a small smile, the smile that will eventually know by heart at the end of year.

I liked the course of Mr. C. and especially its title: " literary history of the Middle Ages to the Present. " I imagined myself in a lush jungle, walking briskly with a machete in hand to try clearing everything. It was he who also told us at the first lecture, that literature was above all an adventure. And he was right.

ROMANTICISM I wrote up my copy with my blue pen - yellow with sarcophagi that Marion had been stolen for me at the British Museum. That was two years ago ... London was beautiful. It rained a lot, I speak English and I drank the real Breakfast Tea. A bit like here, you know. And then I thought that after my examinations would go check it out, and then perhaps review Ivy, it would be nice.

I turned my head toward the row left cheek propped in the palm of my hand. There were two three girls side by side, perfect little doubles, each with its own miniature computer - how to say now? Netbook? Behind them, another girl with a long ponytail drank the neck of a bottle of mineral water. Girls next door and whispered behind her. Those in front of me did not speak, his nose in their notes, they wrote very quickly. So fast that I felt that their pens did not touch not even the paper! It was the ten students Erasmus, Finland. Polish and also, I think.

And a little behind, two boys were silent in the din of gossip and rumors of crumpled paper. One stared at her with an impassive air bottle filled with a liquid red cherry, probably of grenadine. The other

scrutinized me with a look unbalanced and incomprehensible. I looked away, uncomfortable.

His eyes were minnows. One brown eye and one green. The same eyes as the cat on campus.

Which Stores Offer Lay Away

memorable kisses Resurrector

Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Because of you I have my bandages on every finger nails are bitten more than they should and My skin cracks like a desert that everyone cares

Because of you I have tears on your lips and I do not remember having paid I am ashamed of the salt from my eyes the color of I'm afraid my hair to be in love

My riddle my question I tried to understand the answers to questions I know you tried of the heart by up being I wanted to know what flavor it had to be you Because of you I wanted to know what you ate this morning that you drank the drink that you listened to on the tram I wanted to feel your aftershave on her pillow to watch you shave buttocks molded into a short mouse gray sport I wanted to kiss the corner of a street to hold you against me on a bench in May and the same for all other not months until the end of time finally you like it bothers me not to drink tea and drunk to lazy to Greece Te make love on a couch and fall on the dusty floor have It's a bad wake up dream is not it's a nightmare I'll wake up My heart is shaking like maracas is beautiful spain you tell me the new I want to travel you are my my basket my airplane wing my little cargo ship my my my hat my lotto number my mess my one and only my favorite canary my my my husband Tsar you my my me me me look what you do to me because of you

Does Hcg Cause Headaches

Even when we Vint

Match Point

They came to love for the second time and they do not always speak. Lili reached out to the bedside table to grab a cigarette. She squinted, because she did not put his contact lenses. Alex liked to see her like that, unsteady in his fog of her own, she looked vulnerable with his eyes glassy. Lili struck a match, pretending to ignore the insistent gaze of Alex. She, she felt like a mole and do not see how myopia was something charming. She waited for one thing: laser surgery, zou; and why she was saving already for a little while. Every day it filed its loose change in his big piggy bank shaped white pig. When the pieces were falling over each other, it was clonk clonk , and sometimes felt that Lili was the pig who awoke from a long sleep, cranky groin. Remembering this, she smiled, and two large white trails of smoke out her nostrils.

Alex looked at her again and searching for words. Why do not you love me anymore? seemed so pathetic, it was like a kid begging for candy. He knew by heart, and he knew she did not need to say these things. His eyes lost their sparkle, his smile his mouth and taste. Nothing was the same.

Lili rose to open the window and crushed his cigarette in the ashtray on the desk. It was an ashtray they had bought together in a gift shop in New York. Alex remembered the trip as if it were yesterday: the MacDonalds bigger than a station concourse, toy stores in Times Square, squirrels Central Park ... And yet it could be yesterday, because yesterday she still loved me, he thought helplessly.

On the ashtray, there was a large apple very red, like a loving heart.

Lili sat on the bed and turned to Alex. She finally opened his mouth and he held his breath. She slipped, broken voice: "Alex ... I'm sick. I ... It may be serious. Very serious, even. " And Alex looked at her, terrified, and he thinks only one thing, only one. He wanted to tell him he would have preferred she no longer loves him, ultimately.

It was so sad that her eyes were dry.

Really Pretty Short And Poofy Formal Dresses

sleep-November 8 million nine hundred forty-six

She had just cast a curious look, first at my hair, then it had plunged his gaze into mine. She had green eyes and orange, and very short eyelashes. At first I even thought it did not. It was like fruit baskets stuck in the sockets. She had split her pretty little mouth in two, revealing two rows of white beads, to throw me a mischievous " pretty hat."

And then she was gone up the stairs, and in the middle of the stairs, gray cement looked stupid. She was very young, maybe too young. And I was convinced that I never see her again.

But I was wrong. And the hat takes the dust on a shelf somewhere.