Today Xoco dog and I, his love, we as a couple who have been writing about almost everything but still has many things to count, and lie in the face ... the best understood this way, as to each their mind directed.
to all this: the moon is out ... the sun still yellowing ..., the sea shimmers as usual ... the spring flowers are you fucking with beautiful ..., lovers kiss passionately, but they want to fuck ..., the field breaks into a thousand colors, which are said to be of way too many colors ... well at least from what of Adam and Eve. And all this that we like to say to those who write like ass Cojones clear that we must say! Then we would write as Cela, like Marquez, and Delibes, and Baroja, and Galdos, and Torrente Ballester, such as Miró, Blasco Ibáñez, such as Mars, as Caballero Bonald, because writing as Cervantes is quite impossible for me and for all the above.
- I see, the dog tells me that those who do not go to school Castilian bring you the fresco
- Al fresco, you have said Xoco.
- You're an ignorant master. For that I have me, why I will deny you dog?
- For me and between us, I get the feeling that you walk tad pissed off with the rock, he says, as if he were worried if I lose my pots.
- love Rejoice! Do not you think it is beautiful:
"I like you calm as absent ..."
"The prioncesa is sad that the princess ..."
- If hell of death but I'm more !...,
"I will not be silent, even though the finger
and touching her lips, and forehead and you warn or threaten
silent fear ..."
- Is not it a super-mega Chulada, master?:
"Because they are girl, your eyes
green as the sea, you complain
- fucking tuna and farmed !..., but I prefer the compromise:
"Now I sing songs that are more
blood that carries the sea sand "
- Vamos to spend sole to see if it's wrong. Love I'll take the bar in Moe
- Xoco, but I'm not drunk, that's the
Simpson - is the same, and you will see how we end up finding it.
- O to Batam, which also comes out at night (at the end even I'm going to believe what Batman)
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