chilvi_cos @ 2010-03-05T08: 33:00
In the time that insomnia has allowed me to sleep, it occurred to me that yet another dream, which I detest. Rebekka was
Guðleifsdóttir and, unlike what appears to be the reality, she was married. Victor Creed (has taken me a long time to place his face in a movie). I do not know what I wanted to be more when I was little but I do know that he had not achieved and, instead, had become that you're just where you feel: a failure. A stress ratio exploited as a discussion of the unforgettable, the face of things lie that should never lie, much less shouting. We ended up scolding that what was paid for each photo can lead a rich life (using that term. I almost shame to admit it) but out of guilt, delusions of grandeur who ate breakfast and did not have a job, project or wages.
then appeared in one road and one of our children (ruby, as in his photographs), lay unconscious in the middle of the road, and approached the camera without being Rebekka this, to see how Victor Creed poured drops of red liquid on the child, with some plan in mind I can not remember and whose goal was to make me feel guilty enough not to abandon him. Daba
fucking sucks, the convicted dream.
Not that has no meaning, no. Is that I can not wait to communicate with the universe. Lately
fan feel palpitations (you just name). Some momentum that led me to look fanvids den Youtube and wanted to regain some series and some feel like writing. Is it true, doctor? Really, when you thought it would never happen again, the body is asking me fandom?
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