fathom emergency, dissimulation and routines
But the perpetuity of being, what topic.
I am seriously considering the matter of taking me in solfa ALL.
"Study" in a bar in Paraná and Paraguay. Bird, is called the bar.
(Do not go.) (It's expensive.) (Y the man who attends is bad and does not Parker albums.)
(Also, there should be a private university nearby.) (to be filled with rich kids.) (Tontos.)
And I wonder: Is humor the only way out? .
.
.
Just in case I left the bar and I came to write this post. Lest
thing.
EntreCopas could write a thousand verses tonight.
still no wine.
Yesterday's Wine, the wine last night, always
Wine (wine would also like to caress)
could
do as I like poetry, and all the poems I read I liked and I enjoyed it, and so on. Could do even as they created them. Could do as I'm not what I've always been. Could finally believe in essences. As if someone had a dirty shelf where all the essences and not leave it free from dust.
The other day I saw a documentary on French vineyards. It was actually on champagne. I do not know how to call champagne cellars. But hey. The thing is that every day a guy gets to spin the bottles around 30 ° so do not park. The French said, and not lose its essence.
The obvious question, at least that the universe compels me to make me almost daily the past few days is whether there is such thing as the essence of people. Is there such a thing as the essence of humans?
She repeats "is my essence" is its essence ", she repeated" that's not your essence "he is making him not true to your essence." True, what a great word. ***
After two years without touching a drop of alcohol in the absence of others (because there ALWAYS others) have combined the events to interrupt me lethargy ethyl ex-wife of my alcoholic uncle. Recovered. Recovering alcoholic. Never
I saw him drunk poetry (perhaps because I had too much literature, perhaps because I remember my uncle always bathed in methyl alcohol), she does not (perhaps the same).
When I told her boyfriend had told me Well, as long as you want, as long as you care; resented the tone heard in recent years. Then he asked my uncle was killed by someone who asked (or recovered), with a healthy curiosity that gives you the desire. I want, what good word two.
She asked him questions for me like you and I ask for your wife. With the arrhythmia absurd longing, the desire that anything out as is and that we all might be what you wanted to be. Then it occurred to me who was my uncle. Who was she without him. Who was she without her memory. What would be its essence, I wondered. I imagined that once they thought they had found, they believed that would be saved. But my uncle continued to take. He left his daughter, left his wife, beat her to my aunt. Is that your essence?
understood, perhaps hastily, that as alcoholics, liars have the same recovery process. An alcoholic will not heal, it heals. A liar can not be cured, he abstains. Remembered, ending my first bottle when my mother used to scold: the mouth of the liar, he said, the truth is doubtful.
When I had no choice but to open the bottle had not lied so much I wanted all these years.
When my aunt was never wished they had not opened the bottle. When methylated spirit remains among the clothes of my uncle, I bet you want not having been ever faithful to its essence.
want, want, and be fulfilled. Take care not to contaminate you, however you want to change ...
.... Always going someone to come move the bottle .-
