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prefer the cinema.

I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks on the River Warta.
prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
prefer me that he likes people to me who loves humanity.
prefer to have on hand a needle and thread.
I prefer the color green.
prefer not to say that the intellect is to blame for everything.
prefer exceptions.
prefer to leave early.
'd rather talk about other things with the doctors.
I prefer the old-hatched illustrations.
prefer the ridiculous to write poems, to ridicule not to write about it.
prefer not round in love anniversaries, to celebrate every day.
I prefer moralists who do not promise anything.
prefer a kindness to a gullible wise.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
prefer the conquered countries to those conquerors.
'd have reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos order hell.
prefer fairy tales of Grimm to the front pages.
prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
prefer light eyes because I have dark.
prefer drawers.
prefer many things that I have not mentioned here
many not mentioned here as well.
prefer zeros in bulk that are not aligned in a digit.
prefer insects to the sidereal time.
'd knock on wood.
prefer not to ask how much and when.
'd even consider the possibility
that has to be a reason

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Conquer your soul

You can not say the spring: "I hope that you arrive early and hold you back that much. "

One can only say:" Come, bless me with your hope and stay longer you can. "

(Coelho)

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How can I breath When I feel your thoughts all over me?

A look that crosses confusedly at the rate of tachycardia pressing, trying to follow and impress upon the memory words as possible, as in the feeling of secretly snatch them from the sight of someone else.

Applications are crowded together, there will be no response, they will not spoken out loud for fear that their sound can reopen an abyss of "if".

Anticipation, hope, opportunity, forgiveness, love stabbing, tears, night, the night sky long questioned, words spoken in the air to cover the distance ... it's all already burned, played the first time in a rash, as in a casino without consequences. But we still carry with us the debt of our sins, and this we know, both.

'The show must go on', but this is already known. It's the 'how' remains a mystery.

Maybe it was the moment, perhaps we were to be mismatched, maybe it was those around us, maybe it was all that and nothing at the same time.

Perhaps, after all ... I force myself to breathe, I mean. Maybe I should live more than to sip wine instead of ruminating on his life. Maybe I could really drink a glass of wine. If only I had a rocking chair and a porch, so that it would be the perfect place.

Close to Heaven, were enough to hear your thoughts but not enough to let me carry in his wanderings.

In a sweet purgatory, which is what most suits me.