feminism's

fellowship female welfare

tives that contrast with those of the individuals he knows. His standards. He does not contact anyone, he does not attack, he does not persuade. He is not dismayed by anyone's activities. He seeks because of the goals behind them, no matter how much they try to legitimize them. In fact, the most obviously awful are those kind of complexed little imbeciles, insignificant minds, counterfeiters, who while pretending to be considerate, kind and irritating, hide the essence of good-for-nothings. He simply feels disturbed by such individuals, and some of them will be recalled simply by the smell they have left behind. These are the ones who have been harming others gradually and methodically for a very long time, without any discipline. That's all, it's difficult for her to manage herself, but she can somehow come to terms with others. Anyway, what would be a good idea for him to do about it? It is not his problem that she was born of the oddity, nor of the eternity of hereditary qualities. The entrance opened and Emina found herself face to face with it. She could not say whether to call what she felt fear, embarrassment, or uneasiness at the idea of ​​meeting the unexplored world. She looked at her in a shocking, gentle, and penetrating way. She remained in front of her house. One of these houses is maintained, but it has been submerged by time. All is equal to her. She thought: "The individual who lives in this house must also be a little crazy." And the most to blame is the vehicle that stalled a few meters right in front of this house, located at the very entrance to the city. ,, Sorry, I just needed to knock." "Indeed, everything is fine, what do you really want?",, I really want a vehicle specialist." How come she could snicker at the possibility of the kind of house she was looking for for a ready technician? She resides alone in this small house, no doubt. How could she have known this, she has no idea, and yet everything pointed to it in one way or another. She moved away from the entrance as if she trusted that Emina would come in, and she, as if fascinated, did so. "There are a few in the city." There is one around the corner, they say it is very great. I will call him now. ", Leave, very obliged,

With her fragile, hard, warm hand, she gently pulled him inside. He didn't take his eyes off her face. "Sit down," he said serenely, pointing to the seat. Emina, as if on command, threw herself on the ground. "Again, thank you very much. You are extremely kind." "When I come back, you will drink some tea to warm yourself up." "Listen, tea! I never drink tea and I can't stand it.

What is she asking me to do? Come in, dive in, drink, stay there, who can say for sure how she will advise me to answer otherwise. ?! She made her delicate legs shiver in a wide skirt much faster than she thought. She is delicate and delicate. The small-flowered shirt hid her light body. She was probably seventy years old. What is going on with her, he thought. There is no choice but to hold on to the expert. Deep down, she knew how to stand by his side. Who is more valiant than the two of us? Indeed Am I the person who takes the place of an obscure lady, or would she say that she is the person who abandons an obscure lady in her house? She notices the room where she stays alone. Everything is humble, very old, only for a few charming details, new and super current. Through the window, she checks the plain. Fields, endless fields again, an unfathomable distance that people who are not from here will never be able to get used to. Like plants in an unacceptable soil. She is constantly discouraged by this investigation into the void. As if to say that each time is not finished and that we will never arrive except at the end. You leave, you tear, you choose strategies, it is always the same distance. Indeed, even today, the plain has not led her where she was going. A huge cross with a dead Jesus caught her attention. A crown of new flowers of late winter is placed on it. It seems that the cross was made a long time ago. The wood is old, even a little deformed, broken in some places. Jesus, his hands and legs were nailed, there were traces of blood on them. He also has another crown, however made of wire, on his head. 44% There is a bed on this side of the wall. Assuming she is laying her head facing the entrance, the cross is on her chest, that is, on her heart. Perhaps she constantly implores before falling asleep and gets up every day with her eyes fixed on it. He. Who is he? Also, how much does the main legend of the Holy Book mean to her? Probably a ton. Or, perhaps, a lot. The place she chose for the bed and the cross demonstrates this convincingly. Assuming this is the case, I have nothing to fear. Does my cтpаx те? Yahoo! Or maybe it is just a little bit. Somehow, he looks at me strangely. It is harder for me to get used to obscure individuals, perhaps that is why. It’s funny to fear an old person who lives alone with the eyes of God upon her. Would it be a good idea for me to fear the one who lights up this fresh spring morning with the crackling of dry wood and the main hiss of the pot? I turned out to be crazy when