- Today the yellow sun more than usual, have you noticed Xoco?
- No love, me in if the sun yellow yellow more or less I do not notice. Responds apathetic.
- and bustle of the sparrows, and that begins to announce the prelude of love and courtship ..., you know?
- Yuck!, Too much scandal at times that are still sleeping.
- And the air like that We want to flood the senses of smell new, newborn, I say
- Love, to thee the spring will always produce this cloying or is it just for bored?
- Look, if it feels that each tag is like a sigh of a girl in love to think of your love.
- You can see sighs ... I even came close to love, he responds with a mocking tone.
- And the flowers ... what about this burst of color, shape, exotic perfumes and natural?
- That gives me allergies and I feel like crap almost syrupy sentence so let me go.
- Xoco, be seduced. That light will flood, the smells you get drunk. Spring is the season of joy, of letting go, the enjoyment of the senses in all its fullness.
- With all due respect I love ... much sentimentality to me about the nausea.
- Xoco, here I come with you! From now on we will talk only of television programs, how to dance, or sing, and policy and the crisis, many crisis! ... Do you think! I say no more than annoyed.
He sees, as it is ready, my anger, it is also true that I have caused, to deny. My sensitivity to the station fails to so sticky admiration. And he goes and he says ruefully:
- To show that I can be sensible, give me a week and you compose a poem.
- I do I think, but I'll give you the opportunity. Poet! I say sarcastically.
- Love, in the next post. I swear