lovers of the desert do not know where to hide when the husband arrives in the desert.
Every drop that falls is a letter that was part of a word. The wet track after the rain is an epic rickety, the bed on which he has never cried no one is without a pillow under a leaky faucet in the night is the story written as a reminder that terrorizes the written history to forget.
I do not believe in the pages of books that fly away, the summer camps open June 9, the characters of the TV series that bear the names of philosophers. Elegance does not have trees planted along a straight line, rather than shoes four sizes larger. There are some mornings when I feel the cold gut gynecological air, when my thoughts remain attached to the symmetry of certain docks Stations A, as the language on the ice. Avoid passing in front of the newsstands, because I do not care fetishism daily for the past seven days and the great cosmic ejaculations of astrophysical away, beaten on the front pages of scientific journals without shame. I can not reconcile the city with me through that. Not justified by a single idea of \u200b\u200bthese corporations and a silence that made the slogan, stockings routes and stars on the shoes, the traffic islands and hiding in the bushes, the second floor of the coffee and the snow plastic, wandering with headphones on him and nowhere to put the jack. In the mouth, I feel in my mouth.
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