Hacking A Cybergun Desert Eagle

Prévert and reproached and Belair

Between cycles and countercyclical, and disagreements, I love that I attacked and disarmed once unloved. Leo Prévert, then I see a photo of Doisneau in Paris, then write some things and I face the mirror and there I am, also on a coffee table on the hill concept.

For you, my love (Jacques Prévert)

I went to the bird market and bought birds

my love for you

I went to the flower market and bought flowers


my love for you I went to

scrap market and bought chains

Heavy chains For you my love

Then I went to the slave market and I looked


But I found my love.

My words in his ink

I like my words in his ink
although sometimes there is no paper that hold

Love
there
Love does not exist.

At least we agree that is a foreign particle.
For there it leaves its mark,
not matter, however,
when you leave a huge space.
medium to medium A hole in the flesh
where
swirling in a drain will inevitably hope.

I saw a picture ex

were ex flowers

in my former garden

of my former home,

while living

a former life.

I knew full,

front and unprepared,

stunning and vivid writing

by a former photo

expropriated a former life.

And if she had died

And if she had died.

My tears would be the only eternal

would not blame among us,

memories would be good memories,

they would be impossible, as our dream,

and I would deny it but God and destination.

Dead leaves _ Jacques Prévert

Ah, I wish so much that you will will remember

In the halcyon days where we were friends

At that time life was beautiful

And the sun shone brighter than the days

Dead leaves are raked into the waste

- You do, I have not forgotten

Dead leaves are raked into the waste

Memories and unfortunately

north wind carries them

Towards the cold night of oblivion

And I have not forgotten

The song that you I sang

is a song that brings us

I loved you, you loved me

live together

Loving, loving

But life separates those who love

Tenderly, quietly

And the sea erases on the sand

Steps of lovers who are separated!

Conclusion spurious

Love does not exist,

ergo, no mass,

why then

I have an empty heart.

And because a meeting is a fact and a close encounter, I know that will never be like yesterday because you can always be better. A response Salieri. Click here.

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Dedicated to Carmen Tornero ...

Today (Sunday) is celebrated Women's Day. One of the ways that society have agreed to vindicate what has not been done for centuries. I think that is good and will not go or go into the discussion of the legitimacy of this decision, I can only add that this will never do a day and that any institution (the institutionalization of a day), beyond the value persists, a method to ensure that we are not born naturally. There is much to move forward.

However, on a day like a trigger to think-feel in women. My friend Raul Herrera thanked all who have been part of what he is now. The poet Sabinómano White-like-the good in everyday names but not the Baptist, no less a saint. And while some others fall in love and decide to separate ways, I am writing to love them: "(...) Rather than talk about love them all and none, or only love one, it seems that you love the other forever. " (They extract from the undertow of sadness), the latter I learned with the help of my good doctor Gonzalo Rojas-May.

Pero no es suficiente, en este año, esta celebración aún me suena a hueco, diría Silvio. Y es que mientras UNA MUJER lucha tramo a tramo, segundo a segundo por su recuperación, no hay ceremonia posible que tenga el valor de la que tiene CARMEN TORNERO guapeándole a la muerte y sus caprichos. Y con el perdón de Cortázar, que está escribiendo en el Olimpo, tampoco hay Maga que valga, que esta Carmen enamorada de la vida, tanto así que la extremó desde que tuvo uso de razón, e incluso más allá de esta loca cabeza, si conectada a cuanto cable la tecnología médica ha podido desarrollar, ella se ha jalado firme del cable más fuerte, el del amor por la belleza of living. And I looked, and I think, and remember, you do not have age, you're always flirtatious girl, the beautiful of the group, the intense melancholy that sometimes gets tired of not having the force required to continue in the adventure. The leaking of the thieves and the police. The love of Sabines. Which could not be loved by any man and so agreed to George at his side. That does not sleep because it takes time to live. The one that goes where you want it to Yoga is not, nor is stiffened, but more than that because it is so elastic skin to cover his friends in the storm.

Carmen, playing a message I left on your facebook: "I hope - and hopefully take care in the sense deep - given the strength and the light of all who are united wanting your recovery. Hopefully the ratings-winning beauty of your life misfortune. Hopefully dodge the destination with a dance movement. Would look at the past together. Hopefully celebrate learning. "

Finally thank learning from life, if not as a right and a left, say again Silvio. Because today is a day like any other, is one of them held a woman and that I learn that on days like this make sense business celebrations. Happy day

Carmen Tornero. I love you, JP, Page, or any Yomisma.

When thinking ausente_ His brother Tungpo

How strange is the moon, so round and so clear!
with the coating on the hand I ask the blue sky:
What name is in line with the celestial sphere festive tonight? I
fly home, riding air,
But I fear the cold of those ethereal heights.
The mansions of jade and glass are so high!
Dancing with my shadow
no longer feel the deadly link.

Turn over vermilion tower.
Tilts silk-lined doors. Fulgura
lying on insomniacs. Why
it, we do not hold a grudge,
shines upon our separation, denying the meeting?
But rare is the perfect happiness ...
moon rages, the moon wanes, so
men meet and say goodbye.
only ask that our lives last
And our souls fly to heaven together!

In Salieri as a mandate remember what artists are tattooed on the skin. Click here.