I do not like I was noticed.
although every time I write the number in the title which corresponds to the post, yesterday I had not noticed was that the next round.
so round.
I noticed it now.
and I do not have anything ready mica. I mean nothing special.
I do not have evening dresses, I have bottles of champagne, I streamers.
I have no special words, I have no drum roll.
wearing an old pair of light trousers (the down of a suit), a white shirt, a wool jacket in pale pink. are barefoot and as usual, perched on the chair position fakir. Hair extensions are already too windswept to the end of February breathed a little while ago in the garden.
that are in short ever.
one that writes here of the things he sees, feels and smells. the colors he uses. of his days.
that sometimes shows pictures of odd little creatures unlikely.
one that likes to read to you, through your answers, through your pages.
short one there.
that you might have learned a little 'to know.
for today's post, in full knowledge that it was not just the five-hundredth, I had prepared, by sheer coincidence, the flowers.
other flowers.
I felt like after you have assembled a collage of yesterday.
only this time, asking for forgiveness because his mother nature are unattainable, the flowers would be chosen were mine. all only mine.
opportunity to review the pages of my store, recalling the moment when I had done this or that.
and so are the flowers that I am giving you today.
with my thanks for your being there.
here with me.
to the tune of five hundred times.
although every time I write the number in the title which corresponds to the post, yesterday I had not noticed was that the next round.
so round.
I noticed it now.
and I do not have anything ready mica. I mean nothing special.
I do not have evening dresses, I have bottles of champagne, I streamers.
I have no special words, I have no drum roll.
wearing an old pair of light trousers (the down of a suit), a white shirt, a wool jacket in pale pink. are barefoot and as usual, perched on the chair position fakir. Hair extensions are already too windswept to the end of February breathed a little while ago in the garden.
that are in short ever.
one that writes here of the things he sees, feels and smells. the colors he uses. of his days.
that sometimes shows pictures of odd little creatures unlikely.
one that likes to read to you, through your answers, through your pages.
short one there.
that you might have learned a little 'to know.
for today's post, in full knowledge that it was not just the five-hundredth, I had prepared, by sheer coincidence, the flowers.
other flowers.
I felt like after you have assembled a collage of yesterday.
only this time, asking for forgiveness because his mother nature are unattainable, the flowers would be chosen were mine. all only mine.
opportunity to review the pages of my store, recalling the moment when I had done this or that.
and so are the flowers that I am giving you today.
with my thanks for your being there.
here with me.
to the tune of five hundred times.
(while out of the twilight is powder blue and a blackbird wildly bizarre marathon runner runs zigzag through the jar).
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