.
The six things that make life worth living today are:
- love blowing slipping from our mouths between their teeth, the languages \u200b\u200byou touch, the complicity of saliva , skin scarring.
approach the face of the night, sleep, and so how does the wick by a wick which passes the fire. E poi mordicchiare i suoi capelli, la mattina, subito dopo il risveglio, così da morderne ricordi e incubi. - Ci sono persone che sono cucine, sono piene di ripiani, hanno tavoli, sedie, fornelli, coltelli, taglieri, dentro di esse gli altri cucinano, lavano piatti, parlano di notte, quando il resto della casa dorme, sprofondata nel silenzio.
Altre persone invece sono chiaramente salotti, arredati più o meno con gusto, nel migliore dei casi dentro di esse circolano le notizie sulla prossima rivoluzione; nel peggiore dei casi ci sono solo bambini stravaccati sul divano che guardano la tv.
Altri ancora sono soggiorno, restano sulla soglia della vita come sulla soglia di casa, senza apparent reason, they never manage to acquire depth or meaning, and remain so: beautiful is a bit 'deserts, until the owner does not pull down a wall and unites them in some other environment.
Some, then, are clearly no longer on them and there is little to say, let's just say are essential. Others are
bedrooms, their walls are hung with paintings more or less licentious or crucifixes (who knows why later), are heated only at night, when they are invested by desires and passions of the housemates. From their windows, sometimes, you see the sea.
Then there are people who prefer: what are the attic, hidden somewhere in those little sotto il tetto, quelle piene di cianfrusaglie e ricordi, quelle colorate, polverose e sgangherate. Tu entri dentro di loro e improvvisamente le cose riacquistano senso, i conti che non tornavano, magicamente iniziano a tornare, l'urlo che avevi in gola finalmente riesce a uscire, il mondo che ti circondava da ogni parte smette di parlare. Dentro di loro ti senti placato. E la cosa più bella è che sai che sono là: passano gli anni, cambiano i governi, ti cresce la pancia, ti imbiancano i capelli e loro sono sempre là, a ricordarti che la vita ha dei modi strani e complicati per sorriderti. - La gelosia, ovvero il lato oscuro della solitudine
Il suo volto più torbido, quello without redemption or forgiveness. In his day, love makes her dress more foul-mouthed and obscene, the other looks at us smiling, and we die inside, words can not go out, eyes shut in anger, the memories burn and stain the shade paranoid suspicion, every gesture, every movement, every word becomes a sign that we can not interpret. Great ugly beast, jealousy, devouring everything and then, slowly, day after day, devouring you. - Are we alone in the universe? (poetry pocket)
hope. - The nouvelle paranoia.
happens that in 30 years, when you least expect it, to shot, you get an idea totally irrational and completely out of place you start thinking "Damn I die, for no reason, without notice. You look around and find people who only eat, dogs that shit on one plate free of pavement, cars lined up and Moroccans who try in vain to sell their drivers, and racist dickhead, lighters. Nobody will notice anything, life continues to flow easily without wrinkles, whereas you would only find a secluded place to die in peace.
Then, it is coming, the feeling is gone, but you remain convinced that there is not a game and then start calling people so important, just to hear them, trying not to worry about them, and you respond like that, you tell their dicks, so stupid compared to the prospect of death (which they know? Tze), until you start thinking of being premature aging, because otherwise you would have the paranoia of the young men and not those of the elderly blennies.
Bella's life, eh?
- Epilogue *
Where is the G spot in women?
On the left, in my chest, hidden in the chest cavity between the ribs. It does nothing but beat.
* by popular demand
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