The pallets are delicious Roads are for vehicles.
The trees, for The poles of light, illumination in the dark.
Tell yourself:
The airports are just places, Places you see them with your eyes.
The serpentine floor will remain silent if he does not report your story here -your story, promises,. probiemang small unit, small lit.
I remind myself every Manta that is missed, every corner you have not yet had your face, the Yong head on my chest.
I would drive around until it wander through the city I used to love.
I'll be flirting until I receive it. ! these places are just places and not home to algae you.