Monday, May 9, 2011

Trade Between Soul Silver And Pearl

Your hands I do not have a memory. Cortina

to the same place that are non-recyclable waste my nights looking for some truth to make possible the continuity of the minutes.
I do not have a memory.
As these poplars coming winter. As the farewell hurt so much was made vacant seat on the train.
a violent push I leave things in place and get out. Nobody cares
flowers and those spots are not innocent. All doors look invent other doors to get anywhere would be a problem.

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