I said I was incompetent? Well, it said. Among the dozens of designs that organize (but oh how I'll get out of that sentence?) My parallel world (and here you think I have eaten the semantics as a pig, so that parallelism is a concept entirely concrete, imagine two paths that would put a certain stubbornness and frustrating to never cross, and that these trajectories would be my first, and the flow of the vibrating existence of the other, hey, you see these little bobs that will crash for sure but in time and space that they believe belong to them, the idiots), I am convinced that my Incompetence is a given acceptable (and shared, but I want to break the mood) for the human dimension. Practically, if I show you the layout of the client, you can always you unload on me, and even add in my disabilities, or to accept yours as a result of mine, hmm?
Acceptable, yes. I am committed to not respect what I do, or get involved. For not paying wages to the needs and submitted a compassionate side, not to perceive injustice, not to eat with colleagues and do not fuck the bitch by the 5th. Not to be unhappy, eh.
Only now, now that it's serious and speak dough and commitment and contract, and now concludes that we feel, we suggest a word that I could increment the production and tell me everything Magner, I no longer play. I could say. For example.
I love and that's when I began to confuse the concepts as distinct as life and existence, the desire and guts screaming, fire and nights waiting for you. Night waiting for you so that there was one. And what you end up coming. But tous.ceux.qui.ont.été.amoureux. know that the hours were no longer feels there for each other are eager nausea, are renunciations and hatred in molasses, are slow to correct the non-existence does not know if it will dawn on the day and are scope tip to remugles stomach, and for a long time. And I was in love. What can I justify it?
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