RaisaK

I'd like to give you a piece of my falda, hoy florecida como la primavera.. A colorful lamp that would stop your eyes in my tal - arm of sea of insensible waves - the drunkenness of my fruitful feet with its steps sin tiempo. The root of my ankle with its eternal green, the testimony of a glance that will leave you in the mirror as archetype of eternity. The volatile beauty of my face, so close to dying every moment a forza di vivere precipitada. The shadow of my wandering corpse detained in the corner of tu casa. A sweet dream of my pupils when they slip till you come. The beauty of my face in a mirror. The rib of my voice is a shadow of incredible size, and the language that doesn't abuse the word. My alborozo de niña let the shelter live for you to cover it with your chest armor. Or with the aerial hand of the one who goes on a trip because his underwater blood never stops. The fever of my nights con duendes y fantasmas y la virginal lluvia del río más oculto. That at the level of the air, of the earth and the fire, the belly like a fan unfolds. The back where you're riding your hands swollen with oil, clouds and joy. The passion you feel in the same river, unfathomable as if your heart were made liquid, and it escapes from your mouth like a thirsty sea.. I woke up and walked on the grass. Like trembling they wait for the unexpressed quote where only for silence fell the broken chains. And in your fingers I grasp the love of life that in freedom left you bleeding, though with its cascade, with its racha, the trees of deshielo, something of yourself will destroy. The hair that sprouts from the air in unbreakable liquid miniatures so that your hands are unharmed make a nest like in the same sex of a stremecida rose. The entraña where you dive like looking for stars or the taste of dust that will make our bones fertile. The mouth that bites you like a palate will smell like rivers of aromas.. The talamo in which you feel my belt in a soft survival intransitiva, in voyage by the foam difundido o by the blood enendida humanizado the world in which vivo estremecida de gestaciones inexhaustibles. The minute you anoint me

El peligro ha pasado, y el dolor interminable at the end concluded, y esa fiebre llamada vivir fue vencida at the end. Sadly, I know I was stripped of my strength, and without moving a muscle I remained tense.. It doesn't matter, I feel better at the end.. And so quietly I lay now in my bed that anyone who saw me could imagine I was dead, could shudder to look at me thinking I was dead.. The wailing and the groaning, the weeping and the sighing, were silenced; and with them the horrible palpitation del corazón. ¡Ah, that horrible, horrible palpitations, the tides, the nausea, the relentless pain, cesarean with the fever that lacerated my brain, with the fever called vivir that burned my brain. And the torture, the worst of all, was also calmed: that horrible torture of thirst by the deadly waters of the cursed river of passion; for for this I drank from an agua that quenches all thirst.. of an agua that flows with a murmur of canción de cuna; una fuente that lies pocos metros bajo la tierra; de una cueva que se halla muy cerca del suelo. Let it not be said that my dwelling is dark and my bed is narrow, for never did any man sleep in a different bed, and all of you,

There's a country in the world, in the same way as the ground, from last night, in an incredible archipelago of sugar and alcohol.. Simply liviano, like a murciélago wing supported in the breeze. Just plain clear, like the kiss track in the old lonely houses.. o el día in los tejados or the day in the rooftops. only fruit, riverine. and material. And yet I just torridido and kicked like a teenager in the back of my neck.. I was just sad and depressed. sincerely aggress y despoblado. I really. Con dos millones suma de a vida y entre tanto cuatro cordilleras cardinales y una inmensa bahía y otra inmensa bahía, three peninsulas with adjacent islands y a marvelous array of vertical rivers y tierra bajo los árboles y tierra bajo los ríos y in the slope of the mountain y at the foot of the hill y detrás del horizonte And the earth from the rooster's tail And the ground from the gallop of the horse And the earth from the day, under the map,. Then is what I declared. There is a country in the world that is just unpopulated and unpopulated.. Some love will believe that in this river country where the earth springs up, and spills and creaks like a broken vein, where the day has its true triumph, the peasants will go with astonishment and awe to cultivate, singing their proprietary strip. This love will break your innocence solitaria. But no. And he will believe that in the midst of this reclaimed land, wherever he wants, where mountains run through the valleys like fresh blue coins, where a forest sleeps in every flower and in every flower of life, will the peasants go through the dormant loma to enjoy forcefully with their own harvest. This love will double its bright arrow. But no. He will think that where the wind blows the inner earth and turns it into a mass of peaks and meadows, where every hill looks like a heart, in every peasant will be the spring singing among the surcos of his property. This love will reach its blossoming age. But no. There is a country in the world where a peasant, dry and bitter, dies and dies barefoot, his dust falling, and the earth reaches no brink of death.. ¡Oídlo bienno alcanza para quedarse dormido (you are not going to sleep). It's a small and attacked country. Just sad, sad and torvo, sad and acre. I just said sad and oppressed. No, that's not it.. I'm not going to be able to do this.. I mean, they're missing men who strip the Virgin Cordillera and the Hagan Madre after some songs.. Other vegetable fats. mother of the bread. mother of the linz and the techo. Mother solícita y nocturna junto al lecho... faltan hombres que arrodillen los árboles y entonces los alcen contra el suelo y la distancia. Mother solícita y nocturna junto al lecho... faltan hombres who kneel against the trees and then they rise against the ground and the distance. against the laws of gravedad. I'll give them rest, rebellion and clarity. There are men who lie down with clay and leave it on the walls.. There are men who decipher the gods of the rivers and they tremble between the nets. Y hombres en la costa y en los fríos desfiladeros y en toda desolación There are men and women in the coast and in the cold. I mean, they're missing men.. There's a song. I see a sudden swarm of rails sound of ingenio on green supports sound of ingenio and the mansas montañas of origin sound of ingenio and the cane and the yerba y el mimbre sound of ingenio and the mules y el agua y el liquen sound of ingenio y el camino y sus dos cicatrices sound of ingenio y los pueblos Pequeños y vírgenes son del ingenio y los brazos del hombre más simple son del ingenio y sus venas de joven calibre son del ingenio y los guardias con voz de rifles son del ingenio y las manchas del plomo en las ingles son del ingenio y la furia y el odio sin límites son del ingenio y las leyes calladas and the English are the only ones who can stop the madness and the hatred There are sad sounds of ingenio and the guilt that cannot be redeemed sound of ingenio sell times I say it and I said it sound of ingenio our fields of glory repeat sound of ingenio in the shadow of the anchor persist sound of ingenio though throws the burden of crime away from the port with blood and sweat and the I'm not gonna let you do this.. The level of the moon is the level of the gold guitar.. Decide in the wind the names of the thieves and the caves and open your eyes where a disaster the peasants have no land. The sharp air of a brief fist that stops next to a stone opens a wound where some eyes the peasants have no land. That the robin has no angels, has no orbit between his legs, has no sex where a country, has no land.. No have peace between the pestanas no have land no have land. Unlikely country. Where the earth sprouts and falls and crushes like a broken vein, where it reaches the height of vertigo, where the birds swim or fly but in the middle there is no more than earth: the peasants have no land. And then ¿de dónde ha salido esta canción ¿how is it possible ¿who says that between the final salud del oro los campesinos no tienen tierraesas is otra canción. Listen to the delicious song of the geniuses of sugar and alcohol. I come from the bottom of the night to talk about a country. precisely poor of population. But that's not all. I'm a product of a trip.. Give me the time to do the song. And this is the result. The bright day returns through the sugar crystals, first it finds the Labrador.. Then the woodcutter and the cane picker rode their children filling the cart. And the Guarapo boy and after the old man with the clock, who looks at him with his secret death, there's the young woman who's sitting on the ground in the sack. Y al perfil sudoroso de los cargadores enveloped in their cap of musculos morenos. and the albanyl celeste placing in the sky the last ladrillo of the chimney. y al carpintero gris clavando el ataúd para la urgentemente, cuando suena el silbato, blanco y definitivo, which el reposo contains The carpenter is clavando el ataúd para la urgentemente, cuando suena el silbato, blanco y definitivo, which the rest contains. The bright day wakes up in the back suddenly, runs between the rails, goes up the cranes, falls into the warehouses. In the patios, at the foot of a lavender, mojada in the songs, I believe in rejuvenation. He was complaining in the streets. Just as soon as you get off the ground, you 'll tear the grass.. He walks through cities full of lawyers who are nothing but plaques and silence, poets who are nothing but mist and silence and judges who are silent.. ♪ up, jump, delirious in the corners ♪ ♪ and the bright day resolves into a dollar looming ♪. ¡Here's the result.. a bowl of blood. silent, ending. Blood wounded in the wind. Blood in the effective product of bitterness. This is a country that doesn't deserve the number of countries. Other, of a thickness of less than 0,05 mm. Is it true that he kisses me and that his kiss knows nothing but blood?. That day will come, hidden in hope, with its canasta full of implacable rage y rostros contraídos y puños y puñales. But be careful. It's not fair that the punishment falls on everyone.. Let's look for the culprits. Then the weight of the people fell on the shoulders of the guilty.. That's my last word.. I want to hear it.. I want to see her in every puerta de religión, where a hand open asks for a milagro del estero. I want to see your necessary bitterness where the man and the rest and the surco sleep and adelgazan los sueños in the germ of tranquility that eternizes the prayer. Where an angel breathes. Where there's a burning prayer and a secret and a boyero goes out in the afternoon. After all I want nothing but peace. A nest of constructiva paz in every palm tree. Maybe it's about the soul, the kissing swarm and the forgetfulness.

With the noise of the eclipse the night left its enagua, the moon of the great silence our roof palpaba y mientras cubría tu rostro el lucero de su andanada yo te tenía en mis brazos in el balcón de la playa. ♪ Over the arena they'd be raiding the bravos of the water ♪ ♪ And bring us the ocean ♪ ♪ On their twelve waves of silver ♪. In the world of dreams your two eyes are open, the breeze crosses the coast like a salad tongue and the freshness of its caresses. ¡What an alegría! That sweetly caresses his young soul, my son little sleeping and something nice dreaming, that for that in my two eyes the tenderness wine to the fragua, that three months have his muzzles that his lips are scarlet and for his alabaster skin my heart is pouring. I was still humming a lullaby from my throat, untwisting thoughts in braided poems of the love that I carry inside, versed in golden notes, when a fleeting star with the dust of its wings came after my sonsonnet to see how I kissed you. I stopped singing then, still far from dawn, and when I died all the disordered neon lights lit up in all their grandeur the glow of the Milky Way. The shell's embrace in my ears whispered, the moon made of papyrus on you was scratching and in that same moment they muffled the harps of all my thoughts opening the way to the fairies of that landscape of love that you unconsciously gave me, submerging me completely in the atmosphere of the beach, submerging My universe in the dreams of your look, feeling the pleasure of amarte rodeado of the dulce nada.

I spoke of you to my humble heart, and though he refused to listen to me, I decided to speak to him al forza, I told him that you were as like an angel, as of tierna, as perfect. I told her you were my sweetest dream and my whole devotion. I also warned her not to fall in love because looking at your face was like having happiness in front of her. I told her not to think you were a lie because it would describe you as beautiful or maybe better than the truth.. I look at it with skepticism, for I still believed nothing, so I showed him your name engraved in the remotest corner of my memory.. Therefore I said to her: I discovered that she is not as beautiful as the roses, but the roses are beautiful as she, and I increased that you were my insatiable craving... I told her that your eyes are not like stars but rather that the stars are beautiful, but only because they are like your eyes. And it was as if I had found her incentive to tell her that if she knew a fine pearl... then she was already frequenting your teeth.. I also told him I didn't know if he understood, but since I started reading to you, I haven't read any more poetry.. And by then my heart was like a child in the middle of a world full of candy. And by then my heart was like a man kneeling before a divine majesty. And by then my heart for you was already clinging to life. Well, it's no accident that I'm the one asking for you today.. He tells me to look for you and find you, that he never felt a desire so intense and strong as he feels now for you.. That if to be without you is to live, then he would rather have you in an ephemeral instant, touch you and later die, touch you and later die, touch you and later die... because as soon as I tell him about you, he can live peacefully. Because ever since I told him about you, he's been drunk with blood, which is like wine.. Because since I told him about you, he can't find another way.. In that case I say to my heart friend, we live the same, for with vehemence I wait for it.

Every year they see fewer birds in the field the mornings are the saddest no longer they're happy with their song. The beautiful loicas with their pechuga colorada the twos, diucas y zorzales hid in the bushes. There are no old skinny ones where the little ones made their nests, nor are there tortoises, tortolitas, all the birds are gone.. El hombre con su escopeta El niño con su honda They hunt them for fun and even destroy their nests The birds believe God created them. The cernícalo, little, traro of the birds is his enemy as well as the son of the man when he sows the wheat. Never kill a little bird. It's best to have a nest. If you don't have a mother, the chicks die of hunger and cold.. Learn from nature the most beautiful thing that God created where no drugs or drunkenness only praise the Lord. They eat gusanitos and you can watch them they run and then listen and so they can find them.

Yesterday I visited the cemetery of my pueblo and I stopped at the tomb of the empty cross I have passed by there many times but never looked at it and neither did I see it. There are a number of mujer written in it with beautiful relief characters that remain with the passage of the years with its rains, storms and snow. But who is this woman who lives there? What is the story of the life he lived will have remained in memories of the past, will there be vestiges of the life he led? Did you enjoy the scented scent of flowers and the zigzagging flight of beautiful butterflies, admired the curving sparkle of the rainbow and the pale pink that paints some roses? Were you a direct part of countless stories of unbridled, ignoble, cruel passion written in large white letters on a small piece of white paper? Very radiant in your wedding dress, bouquet in hand, did you reach the altar and at the foul malicious comment your purity could never be sullied? Have you conquered the beginning of the dawn, cultivated the virile sighs in your wake, labored under inclement suns when they wander walking towards their sunset? Did you enjoy love and pleasures, did you taste the elixir of happiness, or did you live in continual suffering under the gloomy reign of misery? Did you ever cross my path or did you simply pass by me covered with a cloak of sadness walking with your rhythmic step? Do we meet one evening face to face And on your lips a beautiful smile bloomed And in shame your cheeks flushed You ran away from me in a hurry? Did your smile caress some wanderer, did you spread your smile around the world, or did your hand scatter the tares with actions of vileness and cunning? Did you give yourself to the wrong man and your life became a wild winter, or did you give yourself to the one you loved passionately, all filled with joy in your heart? Did you fall asleep one day sweetly, did you simply forget to wake up, or did your life fall apart?.

There were ten little piglets born to a mother I chose to make the most beautiful girl in the parva just had six months and wanted to be a mother. I didn't agree to her wishes so she wouldn't pass it on. Then months passed and no one could stop her. She would go three times a year.. y como es tan regalona come solo lo que le gusta: milk, fruits, wheat, chancado and some fat chicken. Three months estuvo perdida por el tiempo de las avellanas One day I heard news that in a old dock I was staying to pick her up sleeping I woke up muy temprano, y al llegar no pude verme, con una vela en la mano. Calling her by her name, the suit until her chiquero had me pregnant by there I don't know how y the crianza has increased. Twice had chanchitos in a winter night, stayed out in the potrero and cried, of the cold, died. But she recovered and after a couple of months of nuevo estaba pari'a otra vez she was attacked by a lion: llegó con las piernas heredadas. With a lot of penicillin, the car was still alive, in its chiquero, two months of pure food.. Up to his farm, Don Ciro one day had to cut down because no one could get the Cocha and her offspring out of there. Fifty and four paritions in eighteen years of life between five and twelve lechones were the ones she had. by an average of seven fifty four paritions and three hundred and seventy seven to ten thousand, and four millions. Happy today the car passes by the potreros that wants, old man, no longer has children but is still arrogant and proud. Always eating something good, everything is forgiven, and no one fears death.. The neighbors know her and the dogs know her, if anyone wants to bite her, they'll bite.. When my grandchildren come she gets jealous and gets ahead of me to see how much the car is worth

Beyond the radiant face of some star And when he put his ray on the earth He found that there was a very beautiful girl. And as I walk through the land, I see all the beauty of the land, and I kiss the flowers with my soft caress, and I see the vast canopy of sweetness.. And when I compared the flowers with the girl I found that none was so pretty nor the lilies, the fuchsias and the allelies. Martita grew up with great urgency persecuting huidizas mariposas ya volando por el aire transparent o detained in the corola de las rosas. He was running around the field, he was walking barefoot, he was gathering the flowers of the desert, he was looking at the beauty of the evening, and he was doing his chores with care.. He made his quinta a playground, conquered the height of the cherry tree, and the pearl tree, and the shadow of the palm tree, and the manzanos, and danced to the rhythm of the breeze, and the wheat tree.. She rode her horse always in a good way when she was a little girl and went to the village to buy some brazier or a pill.. And if he felt great pain, he would invade and he needed to be given a good amparo or simply when he felt sad he would play at the don genaro's forge.. Until one day out of many, any day Surely a Sunday morning She saw a honey and handsome boy While she looked out the window. And there came love with its tremendous enchantment. And there came love with its torments and its sorrows. And there she dedicated herself to him with all her senses, with her days, her hours and her moments.. And the magic of love corresponded to the infliction of her overwhelming strength. She abandoned her luxurious life and her home and became almost a girl.. As God willed, as God should have allowed, the man does not fight back, though everyone has opposed and a familiar debate has been generated.. I remembered the girl born in fortune lived in poverty with distinction and with decoration the mecer of her arms replaced the cuna were her sons her tail.

Beyond the radiant face of some star And when he put his ray on the earth He found that there was a very beautiful girl. And as I walk through the land, I see all the beauty of the land, and I kiss the flowers with my soft caress, and I see the vast canopy of sweetness.. And when I compared the flowers with the girl I found that none was so pretty nor the lilies, the fuchsias and the allelies. Martita grew up with great urgency persecuting huidizas mariposas ya volando por el aire transparent o detained in the corola de las rosas. He was running around the field, he was walking barefoot, he was gathering the flowers of the desert, he was looking at the beauty of the evening, and he was doing his chores with care.. He made his quinta a playground, conquered the height of the cherry tree, and the pearl tree, and the shadow of the palm tree, and the manzanos, and danced to the rhythm of the breeze, and the wheat tree.. She rode her horse always in a good way when she was a little girl and went to the village to buy some brazier or a pill.. And if he felt great pain, he would invade and he needed to be given a good amparo or simply when he felt sad he would play at the don genaro's forge.. Until one day out of many, any day Surely a Sunday morning She saw a honey and handsome boy While she looked out the window. And there came love with its tremendous enchantment. And there came love with its torments and its sorrows. And there she dedicated herself to him with all her senses, with her days, her hours and her moments.. And the magic of love corresponded to the infliction of her overwhelming strength. She abandoned her luxurious life and her home and became almost a girl.. As God willed, as God should have allowed, the man does not fight back, though everyone has opposed and a familiar debate has been generated.. I remembered the girl born in fortune lived in poverty with distinction and with decoration the mecer of her arms replaced the cuna were her sons her tail.

Every plot in my life has something of yours and that's really nothing extraordinary you know as objectively as I do. But there's something I want to make clear to you, when I say all the plots, I don't just mean this now, this waiting for you and hallelujah to find you, and fucking lose you, and find you again, and hopefully nothing else.. I don't mean that you suddenly say, I'm going to cry and I with a discreet knot in my throat, well he'll cry. And may a lovely invisible downpour protect us and perhaps that's why the sun will rise soon. I'm not just talking about day by day, increasing the stock of our small and decisive complicities, or that I can or believe I can turn my setbacks into victories, or you make me the tender gift of your latest desperation. No, not at all.. It's much more serious.. When I say all the plots I mean that in addition to that sweet cataclysm, you're also rewriting my childhood, that age when you say grown-up and solemn things and solemn adults celebrate them, and you know that doesn't work.. I mean, you're rewiring my teenage years, that time when I was a suspicious old man, and you know, instead of pulling out of that wasteland, my seed of joy and watering it by looking at it.. I mean you're shaking my youth, that pitcher that no one ever took in their hands, that shadow that no one ever drew near to its shadow, and you know how to shake it until the dry leaves start falling, and the frame of my truth is left without feats.. I mean, you're embracing my maturity this mixture of wonder and experience, this strange confinement of anguish and snow, this spark that lights death, this precipice of poor life.. As you see it's more serious, much more serious, because by these and other words, I mean that you are not only the dear girl you are, but also the splendid or cautious women I have loved or want to love.. Because thanks to you I discovered, (you'll say it was time and rightly), that love is a beautiful and generous bay, that lights up and darkens as life comes, a bay where ships come and go, come with birds and omens, and go with sirens and thunderstorms. A lovely and generous bay, where ships come and go. But you, please, don't go. 2. ‘I love you by the eyebrow... by: Julio Cortázar I love you by the eyebrow, by the hair, I debate you in whitest corridors where the sources of light play, I argue you by every name, I tear you with delicacy of scar, I put in your hair ashes of lightning and ribbons that slept in the rain. I don't want you to have a shape, to be exactly what comes behind your hand, because water, consider water, and lions when they dissolve in the sugar of the fable, and gestures, that architecture of nothing, lighting their lamps in the middle of the encounter. Every morning is the blackboard where I invent you and draw you, soon to erase you, that's not you, nor even with that lace hair, that smile. I'm looking for your sum, the edge of the glass where the wine is also the moon and the mirror, I'm looking for that line that makes a man tremble in a museum gallery. Besides, I love you, and it's cold and wet.

Where the sun hides during the night to recharge its batteries, to fill itself with light and be able to continue with its daily routine. There was a small island alone that the sea with all its waters bathed leaving the rocks that covered it carrying the girl, the great quedaba. A flying bird is hallaba cansada when it sees esa isla it goes towards allá llevaba en su pico pequeña semilla if the bird eats in the flight, it will fall. He put it like always in the upper part where he usually finds the hardest rock and when he tried to eat the little seed, he was lost in the hole.. Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her.. The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. After a poet wrote some verses that tell the story of this beautiful flower.

Where the sun hides during the night to recharge its batteries, to fill itself with light and be able to continue with its daily routine. There was a small island alone that the sea with all its waters bathed leaving the rocks that covered it carrying the girl, the great quedaba. A flying bird is hallaba cansada when it sees esa isla it goes towards allá llevaba en su pico pequeña semilla if the bird eats in the flight, it will fall. He put it like always in the upper part where he usually finds the hardest rock and when he tried to eat the little seed, he was lost in the hole.. Deceptivated and sad she went on her way looking for another island that was populated not made her happy the existence of the man the most important thing, that was planted. Nothing was known about the end of this story. No record of him being able to do so.. While on the island, the seed remained, stuck firmly to the rock and there it sprouted, regaban the drops of salt water and the drops of rain that in winter arrived.. She grew weakly, but emitted a beautiful flower in the bare rock. She was radiating her own colors around her.. The painters are going to immortalize his image and the hummingbirds are going to absorb his sweetness.. After a poet wrote some verses that tell the story of this beautiful flower.

I write, I think, I read, I read, I translate, I listen to the news, I write, I write, I read, I read, I write areI write, I think, I read, I translate, I translate twenty pages, I listen to the news, I write, I read, I read, I write areAre you writing, I think, I read, I read, I translate, twenty pages, I listen to the news, I write, I read, I read, I write, I read, I write Are youvI write, I think, I read, I translate, I translate twenty pages, I listen to the news, I write, I read, I read, I write Are youvI write, I think, I read, I translate, I translate twenty pages, I listen to the news, I write, I read, I read, I write Are you?I write, I think, I read, I translate, I translate twenty pages, I listen to the news, I write, I read, I read, I write You areI write, I think, I read, I translate twenty pages, I listen to the news, I write, I read, Where are you, where you are?

Take the time I love patience, subtlety drives me crazy and chivalry seems too interesting to me, do you want to show me these characteristics? Why might I end up loving you and your words if you are a little more risky than you think?

It convinces you a little more than opening my heart like that way so subtle so direct that you are thinking about me everything always be happy to listen to you

Look at me. You saw what's going on in your head. Everything you think is interesting to me.

It's so nice to have a good day with you guys. I just imagine how amazing we can have it, and it's driving me crazy.

Honey, how's your day going? My day is great.

So my problem now is my personal profile so I'm going to tell you a little bit about what's going on around here. I just got back to this page. I love talking to you guys. I know you think you're cool. Everything's super cool.

Sometimes we can have interesting conversations and we'll know we can have something in common. Do you think we should try?

Have patience and delicacy of everything you can see I have a lot to give and I love to experience things your mind thinks we have this means to have fun

The smoke of life used to live it let's do it fluirrrrrr

A shower is a really good way to start the day, but can you imagine where we are here?

I love to dance and feel pretty. It's one of my favorite things to do. I'm sure when you come into my chat room, you'll see how I'm dancing nonstop.

There are two ways to look at a person's face. One is to look at the eyes as part of the face, the other is to look at the eyes and nothing else... as if they were the face..

Angels call it divine pleasure, devils, hellish suffering, men, love..

And

I

Art, glory, freedom wither away, but nature always remains beautiful.

I like the style a little dark. I really like that style. You'll see me dressed in a lot of colors. And you can see me well

A friendly smile is all you need to have a good day. So why don't you come and have a little laugh so we can enjoy all this stuff?

I'm a very adventurous and fun young girl, you can come by and realize what I'm talking about, so come on, I want to know a lot more about you, it's great that you come here and we have interesting moments.

Hello, come and meet a little of what I have as a person. You're welcome to my chat room anytime you want. I have some interesting things to tell you and some amazing moments to offer.