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Ornament of another age, your skin, silk effects Parchment, shudder, neglected in the satin of thy bodice. Its fruits wilted, wrinkled seasons, seek alms A caress in the oblivion of memories exiles, confidants of your sadness.
Fragile hiémale shadow Welcome to solitary arm the young shoots pristine of thy coming winters. The Annals are bare, resurrect the past smiles to the axle of the virtue that cultivates the field of thy thought.
At the end of the winter, gently thine eyelids, diapré sunblind on the ocean of memories, will seal thy faint sloes, will fly over the swallow and then, the Ataraxie will lead you to the golden beaches where your soul fall asleep. We will remember my PII, we will remember. - What do you want the dogs know, Claire? Is it that thou delusions? - Not, Pierre. They know... they know that we will not go... - What is it is that this history? Of course we are going to go back... Come, Sophie! We have just returned! Sophie arose at the same time as the wind, a violent wind that moved packets of loose snow, and I lifted up mine eyes: I screws then a sky obscured and yet white, tinged with stormy gusts and snow-covered, a madness which we would not get out alive, I understood then. Sophie began to howl:
I am consisting of delicate Minerals Manufactured with love and tenderness by a small be charming, little noisy. A tiny cell in the muffled end bottom of a cavity Oceanic, it has left me grow to provide a two parts in snail. We live in symbiosis until the day where he met his half, owner of a loft last cry, on a coral barrier. I found myself alone and empty in the middle of a stormy sea. Worn by the movements of the marine basin, I failed on a beach Blond, shaped by the dust of my confreres overwritten, rolled by the time and the tides. I was crossed by hermits and other Bernardine crabs, without never to be the elected of their heart. Nice refuge, too small for family use. What do they all have to want to establish a family? I was expecting there, rocked to the rhythm of the tides, heated by the sun, sated of iodine and kelp, listening to the TERRESTRIAL Vibration, when a hand envious I raised for m study of an eye exercised: chamarrée color, brilliance mother-of-pearl gray rosé, crossed chips, bronze, form convoluted, little scars, a few small white coral sprinkled on the carapace reflecting a history, drawing a face, a solitude assumed, desired. Of the hand, I was slipping in the pocket of a Waterproof Marine Blue, i crus choke. More air, more water, where is the sun? The burning of the SALT I lack. I bathed long in this pocket, months, years, I do not know more. I finished by fall asleep. A night of great tide, without knowing how or why, a hand enveloping warm and withdrew me of the pocket, surprised by my presence, where do you come? Ah if the tulips could talk! They would tell the life of their gardener... At the beginning of the fall, he dreamed the bulbs that he was going to planting. It refined the earth which would her babies. The gestation of the flowers would take at least six months. And then would come the multicolored reward! During the time that he worked, pretty girls spent by bike. They quadrillaient The Neighborhood to locate the beautiful boys strong and muscular as our gardener. It was the tender age of small Folies bucolic. A laugh sounded stronger than the other and Viktor saw the small light in the eyes of the cyclist. He made him a sign of the hand and continued its plantations. He had to finish quickly because of heavy clouds announced the rain in the evening. He forgot the adolescent girls and Pensa to its course of the next day to the Agronomic Institute of the nearby town. His mother was preparing her suitcase for the week. Great hot shower followed by a solid meal and it might jump into the train where the waited long chats with the buddies who returned also their rooms of students. Viktor viewing the slideshow of Professor of Horticulture which showed the evolution of the growth of tulips. It is precisely the beginning of this course who had inspired the weekend. He was thinking to this delicious time spent in gardening in front of the bay window of the living room of its parents. And as a surprise or a gift, the even laugh aguicheur sounds in the audience. Nobody reacted and he understood that his memory of hearing him played a tower in its way. He was the only one to hear this laugh that arose in his brain to remind him that other "nice plants " that the tulips existed. He shrugged and focused again on the slideshow.
When he told the incident to its usual Potes, they mocked joyfully to him. "Repressed desire, my old! "Raillaient boys. And girls added a falsely air comforter: "You The reverras next Sunday... " Marika was silent because she was in love with Viktor and he was not doubted not. She hoped with all his heart that adolescent girls would never be back in front of the house For Descartes, assigning to man the reason, God has given him the means to administer the nature. In his speech of the method, it announces that the man will be able to make "as master and possessor of the nature" .The idea of a conquest of the nature remains but it is no longer only the fact of a spiritual authority all powerful. This are essentially the laity, with the help of a Church often compromised, which now manage the territories. In the xviiith century, Voltaire will fight against the compromise of clerics. He will say: "If you want to be careful, the Apostolic Roman Catholic religion is, in all of these ceremonies and in all its dogmas, the opposite of the religion of Jesus" . Thanks to the reason, man and society are able to manage by themselves the nature in a rational way. The nature is perceived as a potential which the man can take advantage. The nature, potentially, is at the service of the individual. Toward the contemporary era Ornament of another age, your skin, silk effects Parchment, shudder, neglected in the satin of thy bodice. Its fruits wilted, wrinkled seasons, seek alms A caress in the oblivion of memories exiles, confidants of your sadness. Fragile hiémale shadow Welcome to solitary arm the young shoots pristine of thy coming winters. The Annals are bare, resurrect the past smiles to the axle of the virtue that cultivates the field of thy thought. At the end of the winter, gently thine eyelids, diapré sunblind on the ocean of memories, will seal thy faint sloes, will fly over the swallow and then, the Ataraxie will lead you to the golden beaches where your soul fall asleep. We will remember my PII, we will remember. - What do you want the dogs know, Claire? Is it that thou delusions? - Not, Pierre. They know... they know that we will not go...
- What is it is that this history? Of course we are going to go back... Come, Sophie! We have just returned! Sophie arose at the same time as the wind, a violent wind that moved packets of loose snow, and I lifted up mine eyes: I screws then a sky obscured and yet white, tinged with stormy gusts and snow-covered, a madness which we would not get out alive, I understood then. Sophie began to howl: I am consisting of delicate Minerals Manufactured with love and tenderness by a small be charming, little noisy. A tiny cell in the muffled end bottom of a cavity Oceanic, it has left me grow to provide a two parts in snail. We live in symbiosis until the day where he met his half, owner of a loft last cry, on a coral barrier. I found myself alone and empty in the middle of a stormy sea. Worn by the movements of the marine basin, I failed on a beach Blond, shaped by the dust of my confreres overwritten, rolled by the time and the tides. I was crossed by hermits and other Bernardine crabs, without never to be the elected of their heart. Nice refuge, too small for family use. What do they all have to want to establish a family? I was expecting there, rocked to the rhythm of the tides, heated by the sun, sated of iodine and kelp, listening to the TERRESTRIAL Vibration, when a hand envious I raised for m study of an eye exercised: chamarrée color, brilliance mother-of-pearl gray rosé, crossed chips, bronze, form convoluted, little scars, a few small white coral sprinkled on the carapace reflecting a history, drawing a face, a solitude assumed, desired.
Of the hand, I was slipping in the pocket of a Waterproof Marine Blue, i crus choke. More air, more water, where is the sun? The burning of the SALT I lack. I bathed long in this pocket, months, years, I do not know more. I finished by fall asleep. A night of great tide, without knowing how or why, a hand enveloping warm and withdrew me of the pocket, surprised by my presence, where do you come? Ah if the tulips could talk! They would tell the life of their gardener... At the beginning of the fall, he dreamed the bulbs that he was going to planting. It refined the earth which would her babies. The gestation of the flowers would take at least six months. And then would come the multicolored reward! During the time that he worked, pretty girls spent by bike. They quadrillaient The Neighborhood to locate the beautiful boys strong and muscular as our gardener. It was the tender age of small Folies bucolic. A laugh sounded stronger than the other and Viktor saw the small light in the eyes of the cyclist. He made him a sign of the hand and continued its plantations. He had to finish quickly because of heavy clouds announced the rain in the evening. He forgot the adolescent girls and Pensa to its course of the next day to the Agronomic Institute of the nearby town. His mother was preparing her suitcase for the week. Great hot shower followed by a solid meal and it might jump into the train where the waited long chats with the buddies who returned also their rooms of students. Viktor viewing the slideshow of Professor of Horticulture which showed the evolution of the growth of tulips. It is precisely the beginning of this course who had inspired the weekend. He was thinking to this delicious time spent in gardening in front of the bay window of the living room of its parents. And as a surprise or a gift, the even laugh aguicheur sounds in the audience. Nobody reacted and he understood that his memory of hearing him played a tower in its way. He was the only one to hear this laugh that arose in his brain to remind him that other "nice plants " that the tulips existed. He shrugged and focused again on the slideshow. When he told the incident to its usual Potes, they mocked joyfully to him. "Repressed desire, my old! "Raillaient boys. And girls added a falsely air comforter: "You The reverras next Sunday... " Marika was silent because she was in love with Viktor and he was not doubted not. She hoped with all his heart that adolescent girls would never be back in front of the house For Descartes, assigning to man the reason, God has given him the means to administer the nature. In his speech of the method, it announces that the man will be able to make "as master and possessor of the nature" .The idea of a conquest of the nature remains but it is no longer only the fact of a spiritual authority all powerful. This are essentially the laity, with the help of a Church often compromised, which now manage the territories. In the xviiith century, Voltaire will fight against the compromise of clerics. He will say: "If you want to be careful, the Apostolic Roman Catholic religion is, in all of these ceremonies and in all its dogmas, the opposite of the religion of Jesus" .
Thanks to the reason, man and society are able to manage by themselves the nature in a rational way. The nature is perceived as a potential which the man can take advantage. The nature, potentially, is at the service of the individual. Toward the contemporary era Ornament of another age, your skin, silk effects Parchment, shudder, neglected in the satin of thy bodice. Its fruits wilted, wrinkled seasons, seek alms A caress in the oblivion of memories exiles, confidants of your sadness. Fragile hiémale shadow Welcome to solitary arm the young shoots pristine of thy coming winters. The Annals are bare, resurrect the past smiles to the axle of the virtue that cultivates the field of thy thought. At the end of the winter, gently thine eyelids, diapré sunblind on the ocean of memories, will seal thy faint sloes, will fly over the swallow and then, the Ataraxie will lead you to the golden beaches where your soul fall asleep. We will remember my PII, we will remember. - What do you want the dogs know, Claire? Is it that thou delusions? - Not, Pierre. They know... they know that we will not go... - What is it is that this history? Of course we are going to go back... Come, Sophie! We have just returned! Sophie arose at the same time as the wind, a violent wind that moved packets of loose snow, and I lifted up mine eyes: I screws then a sky obscured and yet white, tinged with stormy gusts and snow-covered, a madness which we would not get out alive, I understood then. Sophie began to howl: I am consisting of delicate Minerals Manufactured with love and tenderness by a small be charming, little noisy. A tiny cell in the muffled end bottom of a cavity Oceanic, it has left me grow to provide a two parts in snail. We live in symbiosis until the day where he met his half, owner of a loft last cry, on a coral barrier. I found myself alone and empty in the middle of a stormy sea. Worn by the movements of the marine basin, I failed on a beach Blond, shaped by the dust of my confreres overwritten, rolled by the time and the tides. I was crossed by hermits and other Bernardine crabs, without never to be the elected of their heart. Nice refuge, too small for family use. What do they all have to want to establish a family? I was expecting there, rocked to the rhythm of the tides, heated by the sun, sated of iodine and kelp, listening to the TERRESTRIAL Vibration, when a hand envious I raised for m study of an eye exercised: chamarrée color, brilliance mother-of-pearl gray rosé, crossed chips, bronze, form convoluted, little scars, a few small white coral sprinkled on the carapace reflecting a history, drawing a face, a solitude assumed, desired. Of the hand, I was slipping in the pocket of a Waterproof Marine Blue, i crus choke. More air, more water, where is the sun? The burning of the SALT I lack. I bathed long in this pocket, months, years, I do not know more. I finished by fall asleep.
A night of great tide, without knowing how or why, a hand enveloping warm and withdrew me of the pocket, surprised by my presence, where do you come? Ah if the tulips could talk! They would tell the life of their gardener... At the beginning of the fall, he dreamed the bulbs that he was going to planting. It refined the earth which would her babies. The gestation of the flowers would take at least six months. And then would come the multicolored reward! During the time that he worked, pretty girls spent by bike. They quadrillaient The Neighborhood to locate the beautiful boys strong and muscular as our gardener. It was the tender age of small Folies bucolic. A laugh sounded stronger than the other and Viktor saw the small light in the eyes of the cyclist. He made him a sign of the hand and continued its plantations. He had to finish quickly because of heavy clouds announced the rain in the evening. He forgot the adolescent girls and Pensa to its course of the next day to the Agronomic Institute of the nearby town. His mother was preparing her suitcase for the week. Great hot shower followed by a solid meal and it might jump into the train where the waited long chats with the buddies who returned also their rooms of students. Viktor viewing the slideshow of Professor of Horticulture which showed the evolution of the growth of tulips. It is precisely the beginning of this course who had inspired the weekend. He was thinking to this delicious time spent in gardening in front of the bay window of the living room of its parents. And as a surprise or a gift, the even laugh aguicheur sounds in the audience. Nobody reacted and he understood that his memory of hearing him played a tower in its way. He was the only one to hear this laugh that arose in his brain to remind him that other "nice plants " that the tulips existed. He shrugged and focused again on the slideshow. When he told the incident to its usual Potes, they mocked joyfully to him. "Repressed desire, my old! "Raillaient boys. And girls added a falsely air comforter: "You The reverras next Sunday... " Marika was silent because she was in love with Viktor and he was not doubted not. She hoped with all his heart that adolescent girls would never be back in front of the house For Descartes, assigning to man the reason, God has given him the means to administer the nature. In his speech of the method, it announces that the man will be able to make "as master and possessor of the nature" .The idea of a conquest of the nature remains but it is no longer only the fact of a spiritual authority all powerful. This are essentially the laity, with the help of a Church often compromised, which now manage the territories. In the xviiith century, Voltaire will fight against the compromise of clerics. He will say: "If you want to be careful, the Apostolic Roman Catholic religion is, in all of these ceremonies and in all its dogmas, the opposite of the religion of Jesus" . Thanks to the reason, man and society are able to manage by themselves the nature in a rational way. The nature is perceived as a potential which the man can take advantage. The nature, potentially, is at the service of the individual.
Toward the contemporary era Ornament of another age, your skin, silk effects Parchment, shudder, neglected in the satin of thy bodice. Its fruits wilted, wrinkled seasons, seek alms A caress in the oblivion of memories exiles, confidants of your sadness. Fragile hiémale shadow Welcome to solitary arm the young shoots pristine of thy coming winters. The Annals are bare, resurrect the past smiles to the axle of the virtue that cultivates the field of thy thought. At the end of the winter, gently thine eyelids, diapré sunblind on the ocean of memories, will seal thy faint sloes, will fly over the swallow and then, the Ataraxie will lead you to the golden beaches where your soul fall asleep. We will remember my PII, we will remember. - What do you want the dogs know, Claire? Is it that thou delusions? - Not, Pierre. They know... they know that we will not go... - What is it is that this history? Of course we are going to go back... Come, Sophie! We have just returned! Sophie arose at the same time as the wind, a violent wind that moved packets of loose snow, and I lifted up mine eyes: I screws then a sky obscured and yet white, tinged with stormy gusts and snow-covered, a madness which we would not get out alive, I understood then. Sophie began to howl: I am consisting of delicate Minerals Manufactured with love and tenderness by a small be charming, little noisy. A tiny cell in the muffled end bottom of a cavity Oceanic, it has left me grow to provide a two parts in snail. We live in symbiosis until the day where he met his half, owner of a loft last cry, on a coral barrier. I found myself alone and empty in the middle of a stormy sea. Worn by the movements of the marine basin, I failed on a beach Blond, shaped by the dust of my confreres overwritten, rolled by the time and the tides. I was crossed by hermits and other Bernardine crabs, without never to be the elected of their heart. Nice refuge, too small for family use. What do they all have to want to establish a family? I was expecting there, rocked to the rhythm of the tides, heated by the sun, sated of iodine and kelp, listening to the TERRESTRIAL Vibration, when a hand envious I raised for m study of an eye exercised: chamarrée color, brilliance mother-of-pearl gray rosé, crossed chips, bronze, form convoluted, little scars, a few small white coral sprinkled on the carapace reflecting a history, drawing a face, a solitude assumed, desired. Of the hand, I was slipping in the pocket of a Waterproof Marine Blue, i crus choke. More air, more water, where is the sun? The burning of the SALT I lack. I bathed long in this pocket, months, years, I do not know more. I finished by fall asleep.
A night of great tide, without knowing how or why, a hand enveloping warm and withdrew me of the pocket, surprised by my presence, where do you come? Ah if the tulips could talk! They would tell the life of their gardener... At the beginning of the fall, he dreamed the bulbs that he was going to planting. It refined the earth which would her babies. The gestation of the flowers would take at least six months. And then would come the multicolored reward! During the time that he worked, pretty girls spent by bike. They quadrillaient The Neighborhood to locate the beautiful boys strong and muscular as our gardener. It was the tender age of small Folies bucolic. A laugh sounded stronger than the other and Viktor saw the small light in the eyes of the cyclist. He made him a sign of the hand and continued its plantations. He had to finish quickly because of heavy clouds announced the rain in the evening. He forgot the adolescent girls and Pensa to its course of the next day to the Agronomic Institute of the nearby town. His mother was preparing her suitcase for the week. Great hot shower followed by a solid meal and it might jump into the train where the waited long chats with the buddies who returned also their rooms of students. Viktor viewing the slideshow of Professor of Horticulture which showed the evolution of the growth of tulips. It is precisely the beginning of this course who had inspired the weekend. He was thinking to this delicious time spent in gardening in front of the bay window of the living room of its parents. And as a surprise or a gift, the even laugh aguicheur sounds in the audience. Nobody reacted and he understood that his memory of hearing him played a tower in its way. He was the only one to hear this laugh that arose in his brain to remind him that other "nice plants " that the tulips existed. He shrugged and focused again on the slideshow. When he told the incident to its usual Potes, they mocked joyfully to him. "Repressed desire, my old! "Raillaient boys. And girls added a falsely air comforter: "You The reverras next Sunday... " Marika was silent because she was in love with Viktor and he was not doubted not. She hoped with all his heart that adolescent girls would never be back in front of the house For Descartes, assigning to man the reason, God has given him the means to administer the nature. In his speech of the method, it announces that the man will be able to make "as master and possessor of the nature" .The idea of a conquest of the nature remains but it is no longer only the fact of a spiritual authority all powerful. This are essentially the laity, with the help of a Church often compromised, which now manage the territories. In the xviiith century, Voltaire will fight against the compromise of clerics. He will say: "If you want to be careful, the Apostolic Roman Catholic religion is, in all of these ceremonies and in all its dogmas, the opposite of the religion of Jesus" . Thanks to the reason, man and society are able to manage by themselves the nature in a rational way. The nature is perceived as a potential which the man can take advantage. The nature, potentially, is at the service of the individual.
Toward the contemporary era Ornament of another age, your skin, silk effects Parchment, shudder, neglected in the satin of thy bodice. Its fruits wilted, wrinkled seasons, seek alms A caress in the oblivion of memories exiles, confidants of your sadness. Fragile hiémale shadow Welcome to solitary arm the young shoots pristine of thy coming winters. The Annals are bare, resurrect the past smiles to the axle of the virtue that cultivates the field of thy thought. At the end of the winter, gently thine eyelids, diapré sunblind on the ocean of memories, will seal thy faint sloes, will fly over the swallow and then, the Ataraxie will lead you to the golden beaches where your soul fall asleep. We will remember my PII, we will remember. - What do you want the dogs know, Claire? Is it that thou delusions? - Not, Pierre. They know... they know that we will not go... - What is it is that this history? Of course we are going to go back... Come, Sophie! We have just returned! Sophie arose at the same time as the wind, a violent wind that moved packets of loose snow, and I lifted up mine eyes: I screws then a sky obscured and yet white, tinged with stormy gusts and snow-covered, a madness which we would not get out alive, I understood then. Sophie began to howl: I am consisting of delicate Minerals Manufactured with love and tenderness by a small be charming, little noisy. A tiny cell in the muffled end bottom of a cavity Oceanic, it has left me grow to provide a two parts in snail. We live in symbiosis until the day where he met his half, owner of a loft last cry, on a coral barrier. I found myself alone and empty in the middle of a stormy sea. Worn by the movements of the marine basin, I failed on a beach Blond, shaped by the dust of my confreres overwritten, rolled by the time and the tides. I was crossed by hermits and other Bernardine crabs, without never to be the elected of their heart. Nice refuge, too small for family use. What do they all have to want to establish a family? I was expecting there, rocked to the rhythm of the tides, heated by the sun, sated of iodine and kelp, listening to the TERRESTRIAL Vibration, when a hand envious I raised for m study of an eye exercised: chamarrée color, brilliance mother-of-pearl gray rosé, crossed chips, bronze, form convoluted, little scars, a few small white coral sprinkled on the carapace reflecting a history, drawing a face, a solitude assumed, desired. Of the hand, I was slipping in the pocket of a Waterproof Marine Blue, i crus choke. More air, more water, where is the sun? The burning of the SALT I lack. I bathed long in this pocket, months, years, I do not know more. I finished by fall asleep. A night of great tide, without knowing how or why, a hand enveloping warm and withdrew me of the pocket, surprised by my presence, where do you come? Ah if the tulips could talk! They would tell the life of their gardener... At the beginning of the fall, he dreamed the bulbs that he was going to planting. It refined the earth which would her babies. The gestation of the flowers would take at least six months. And then would come the multicolored reward!
During the time that he worked, pretty girls spent by bike. They quadrillaient The Neighborhood to locate the beautiful boys strong and muscular as our gardener. It was the tender age of small Folies bucolic. A laugh sounded stronger than the other and Viktor saw the small light in the eyes of the cyclist. He made him a sign of the hand and continued its plantations. He had to finish quickly because of heavy clouds announced the rain in the evening. He forgot the adolescent girls and Pensa to its course of the next day to the Agronomic Institute of the nearby town. His mother was preparing her suitcase for the week. Great hot shower followed by a solid meal and it might jump into the train where the waited long chats with the buddies who returned also their rooms of students. Viktor viewing the slideshow of Professor of Horticulture which showed the evolution of the growth of tulips. It is precisely the beginning of this course who had inspired the weekend. He was thinking to this delicious time spent in gardening in front of the bay window of the living room of its parents. And as a surprise or a gift, the even laugh aguicheur sounds in the audience. Nobody reacted and he understood that his memory of hearing him played a tower in its way. He was the only one to hear this laugh that arose in his brain to remind him that other "nice plants " that the tulips existed. He shrugged and focused again on the slideshow.
When he told the incident to its usual Potes, they mocked joyfully to him. "Repressed desire, my old! "Raillaient boys. And girls added a falsely air comforter: "You The reverras next Sunday... " Marika was silent because she was in love with Viktor and he was not doubted not. She hoped with all his heart that adolescent girls would never be back in front of the house For Descartes, assigning to man the reason, God has given him the means to administer the nature. In his speech of the method, it announces that the man will be able to make "as master and possessor of the nature" .The idea of a conquest of the nature remains but it is no longer only the fact of a spiritual authority all powerful. This are essentially the laity, with the help of a Church often compromised, which now manage the territories. In the xviiith century, Voltaire will fight against the compromise of clerics. He will say: "If you want to be careful, the Apostolic Roman Catholic religion is, in all of these ceremonies and in all its dogmas, the opposite of the religion of Jesus" . Thanks to the reason, man and society are able to manage by themselves the nature in a rational way. The nature is perceived as a potential which the man can take advantage. The nature, potentially, is at the service of the individual. Toward the contemporary era
At the end of the winter, gently thine eyelids, diapré sunblind on the ocean of memories, will seal thy faint sloes, will fly over the swallow and then, the Ataraxie will lead you to the golden beaches where your soul fall asleep. We will remember my PII, we will remember. - What do you want the dogs know, Claire? Is it that thou delusions? - Not, Pierre. They know... they know that we will not go... - What is it is that this history? Of course we are going to go back... Come, Sophie! We have just returned! Sophie arose at the same time as the wind, a violent wind that moved packets of loose snow, and I lifted up mine eyes: I screws then a sky obscured and yet white, tinged with stormy gusts and snow-covered, a madness which we would not get out alive, I understood then. Sophie began to howl:
I am consisting of delicate Minerals Manufactured with love and tenderness by a small be charming, little noisy. A tiny cell in the muffled end bottom of a cavity Oceanic, it has left me grow to provide a two parts in snail. We live in symbiosis until the day where he met his half, owner of a loft last cry, on a coral barrier. I found myself alone and empty in the middle of a stormy sea. Worn by the movements of the marine basin, I failed on a beach Blond, shaped by the dust of my confreres overwritten, rolled by the time and the tides. I was crossed by hermits and other Bernardine crabs, without never to be the elected of their heart. Nice refuge, too small for family use. What do they all have to want to establish a family? I was expecting there, rocked to the rhythm of the tides, heated by the sun, sated of iodine and kelp, listening to the TERRESTRIAL Vibration, when a hand envious I raised for m study of an eye exercised: chamarrée color, brilliance mother-of-pearl gray rosé, crossed chips, bronze, form convoluted, little scars, a few small white coral sprinkled on the carapace reflecting a history, drawing a face, a solitude assumed, desired. Of the hand, I was slipping in the pocket of a Waterproof Marine Blue, i crus choke. More air, more water, where is the sun? The burning of the SALT I lack. I bathed long in this pocket, months, years, I do not know more. I finished by fall asleep. A night of great tide, without knowing how or why, a hand enveloping warm and withdrew me of the pocket, surprised by my presence, where do you come? Ah if the tulips could talk! They would tell the life of their gardener... At the beginning of the fall, he dreamed the bulbs that he was going to planting. It refined the earth which would her babies. The gestation of the flowers would take at least six months. And then would come the multicolored reward! During the time that he worked, pretty girls spent by bike. They quadrillaient The Neighborhood to locate the beautiful boys strong and muscular as our gardener. It was the tender age of small Folies bucolic. A laugh sounded stronger than the other and Viktor saw the small light in the eyes of the cyclist. He made him a sign of the hand and continued its plantations. He had to finish quickly because of heavy clouds announced the rain in the evening. He forgot the adolescent girls and Pensa to its course of the next day to the Agronomic Institute of the nearby town. His mother was preparing her suitcase for the week. Great hot shower followed by a solid meal and it might jump into the train where the waited long chats with the buddies who returned also their rooms of students. Viktor viewing the slideshow of Professor of Horticulture which showed the evolution of the growth of tulips. It is precisely the beginning of this course who had inspired the weekend. He was thinking to this delicious time spent in gardening in front of the bay window of the living room of its parents. And as a surprise or a gift, the even laugh aguicheur sounds in the audience. Nobody reacted and he understood that his memory of hearing him played a tower in its way. He was the only one to hear this laugh that arose in his brain to remind him that other "nice plants " that the tulips existed. He shrugged and focused again on the slideshow.
When he told the incident to its usual Potes, they mocked joyfully to him. "Repressed desire, my old! "Raillaient boys. And girls added a falsely air comforter: "You The reverras next Sunday... " Marika was silent because she was in love with Viktor and he was not doubted not. She hoped with all his heart that adolescent girls would never be back in front of the house For Descartes, assigning to man the reason, God has given him the means to administer the nature. In his speech of the method, it announces that the man will be able to make "as master and possessor of the nature" .The idea of a conquest of the nature remains but it is no longer only the fact of a spiritual authority all powerful. This are essentially the laity, with the help of a Church often compromised, which now manage the territories. In the xviiith century, Voltaire will fight against the compromise of clerics. He will say: "If you want to be careful, the Apostolic Roman Catholic religion is, in all of these ceremonies and in all its dogmas, the opposite of the religion of Jesus" . Thanks to the reason, man and society are able to manage by themselves the nature in a rational way. The nature is perceived as a potential which the man can take advantage. The nature, potentially, is at the service of the individual. Toward the contemporary era Ornament of another age, your skin, silk effects Parchment, shudder, neglected in the satin of thy bodice. Its fruits wilted, wrinkled seasons, seek alms A caress in the oblivion of memories exiles, confidants of your sadness. Fragile hiémale shadow Welcome to solitary arm the young shoots pristine of thy coming winters. The Annals are bare, resurrect the past smiles to the axle of the virtue that cultivates the field of thy thought. At the end of the winter, gently thine eyelids, diapré sunblind on the ocean of memories, will seal thy faint sloes, will fly over the swallow and then, the Ataraxie will lead you to the golden beaches where your soul fall asleep. We will remember my PII, we will remember. - What do you want the dogs know, Claire? Is it that thou delusions? - Not, Pierre. They know... they know that we will not go...
- What is it is that this history? Of course we are going to go back... Come, Sophie! We have just returned! Sophie arose at the same time as the wind, a violent wind that moved packets of loose snow, and I lifted up mine eyes: I screws then a sky obscured and yet white, tinged with stormy gusts and snow-covered, a madness which we would not get out alive, I understood then. Sophie began to howl: I am consisting of delicate Minerals Manufactured with love and tenderness by a small be charming, little noisy. A tiny cell in the muffled end bottom of a cavity Oceanic, it has left me grow to provide a two parts in snail. We live in symbiosis until the day where he met his half, owner of a loft last cry, on a coral barrier. I found myself alone and empty in the middle of a stormy sea. Worn by the movements of the marine basin, I failed on a beach Blond, shaped by the dust of my confreres overwritten, rolled by the time and the tides. I was crossed by hermits and other Bernardine crabs, without never to be the elected of their heart. Nice refuge, too small for family use. What do they all have to want to establish a family? I was expecting there, rocked to the rhythm of the tides, heated by the sun, sated of iodine and kelp, listening to the TERRESTRIAL Vibration, when a hand envious I raised for m study of an eye exercised: chamarrée color, brilliance mother-of-pearl gray rosé, crossed chips, bronze, form convoluted, little scars, a few small white coral sprinkled on the carapace reflecting a history, drawing a face, a solitude assumed, desired.
Of the hand, I was slipping in the pocket of a Waterproof Marine Blue, i crus choke. More air, more water, where is the sun? The burning of the SALT I lack. I bathed long in this pocket, months, years, I do not know more. I finished by fall asleep. A night of great tide, without knowing how or why, a hand enveloping warm and withdrew me of the pocket, surprised by my presence, where do you come? Ah if the tulips could talk! They would tell the life of their gardener... At the beginning of the fall, he dreamed the bulbs that he was going to planting. It refined the earth which would her babies. The gestation of the flowers would take at least six months. And then would come the multicolored reward! During the time that he worked, pretty girls spent by bike. They quadrillaient The Neighborhood to locate the beautiful boys strong and muscular as our gardener. It was the tender age of small Folies bucolic. A laugh sounded stronger than the other and Viktor saw the small light in the eyes of the cyclist. He made him a sign of the hand and continued its plantations. He had to finish quickly because of heavy clouds announced the rain in the evening. He forgot the adolescent girls and Pensa to its course of the next day to the Agronomic Institute of the nearby town. His mother was preparing her suitcase for the week. Great hot shower followed by a solid meal and it might jump into the train where the waited long chats with the buddies who returned also their rooms of students. Viktor viewing the slideshow of Professor of Horticulture which showed the evolution of the growth of tulips. It is precisely the beginning of this course who had inspired the weekend. He was thinking to this delicious time spent in gardening in front of the bay window of the living room of its parents. And as a surprise or a gift, the even laugh aguicheur sounds in the audience. Nobody reacted and he understood that his memory of hearing him played a tower in its way. He was the only one to hear this laugh that arose in his brain to remind him that other "nice plants " that the tulips existed. He shrugged and focused again on the slideshow. When he told the incident to its usual Potes, they mocked joyfully to him. "Repressed desire, my old! "Raillaient boys. And girls added a falsely air comforter: "You The reverras next Sunday... " Marika was silent because she was in love with Viktor and he was not doubted not. She hoped with all his heart that adolescent girls would never be back in front of the house For Descartes, assigning to man the reason, God has given him the means to administer the nature. In his speech of the method, it announces that the man will be able to make "as master and possessor of the nature" .The idea of a conquest of the nature remains but it is no longer only the fact of a spiritual authority all powerful. This are essentially the laity, with the help of a Church often compromised, which now manage the territories. In the xviiith century, Voltaire will fight against the compromise of clerics. He will say: "If you want to be careful, the Apostolic Roman Catholic religion is, in all of these ceremonies and in all its dogmas, the opposite of the religion of Jesus" .
Thanks to the reason, man and society are able to manage by themselves the nature in a rational way. The nature is perceived as a potential which the man can take advantage. The nature, potentially, is at the service of the individual. Toward the contemporary era Ornament of another age, your skin, silk effects Parchment, shudder, neglected in the satin of thy bodice. Its fruits wilted, wrinkled seasons, seek alms A caress in the oblivion of memories exiles, confidants of your sadness. Fragile hiémale shadow Welcome to solitary arm the young shoots pristine of thy coming winters. The Annals are bare, resurrect the past smiles to the axle of the virtue that cultivates the field of thy thought. At the end of the winter, gently thine eyelids, diapré sunblind on the ocean of memories, will seal thy faint sloes, will fly over the swallow and then, the Ataraxie will lead you to the golden beaches where your soul fall asleep. We will remember my PII, we will remember. - What do you want the dogs know, Claire? Is it that thou delusions? - Not, Pierre. They know... they know that we will not go... - What is it is that this history? Of course we are going to go back... Come, Sophie! We have just returned! Sophie arose at the same time as the wind, a violent wind that moved packets of loose snow, and I lifted up mine eyes: I screws then a sky obscured and yet white, tinged with stormy gusts and snow-covered, a madness which we would not get out alive, I understood then. Sophie began to howl: I am consisting of delicate Minerals Manufactured with love and tenderness by a small be charming, little noisy. A tiny cell in the muffled end bottom of a cavity Oceanic, it has left me grow to provide a two parts in snail. We live in symbiosis until the day where he met his half, owner of a loft last cry, on a coral barrier. I found myself alone and empty in the middle of a stormy sea. Worn by the movements of the marine basin, I failed on a beach Blond, shaped by the dust of my confreres overwritten, rolled by the time and the tides. I was crossed by hermits and other Bernardine crabs, without never to be the elected of their heart. Nice refuge, too small for family use. What do they all have to want to establish a family? I was expecting there, rocked to the rhythm of the tides, heated by the sun, sated of iodine and kelp, listening to the TERRESTRIAL Vibration, when a hand envious I raised for m study of an eye exercised: chamarrée color, brilliance mother-of-pearl gray rosé, crossed chips, bronze, form convoluted, little scars, a few small white coral sprinkled on the carapace reflecting a history, drawing a face, a solitude assumed, desired. Of the hand, I was slipping in the pocket of a Waterproof Marine Blue, i crus choke. More air, more water, where is the sun? The burning of the SALT I lack. I bathed long in this pocket, months, years, I do not know more. I finished by fall asleep.
A night of great tide, without knowing how or why, a hand enveloping warm and withdrew me of the pocket, surprised by my presence, where do you come? Ah if the tulips could talk! They would tell the life of their gardener... At the beginning of the fall, he dreamed the bulbs that he was going to planting. It refined the earth which would her babies. The gestation of the flowers would take at least six months. And then would come the multicolored reward! During the time that he worked, pretty girls spent by bike. They quadrillaient The Neighborhood to locate the beautiful boys strong and muscular as our gardener. It was the tender age of small Folies bucolic. A laugh sounded stronger than the other and Viktor saw the small light in the eyes of the cyclist. He made him a sign of the hand and continued its plantations. He had to finish quickly because of heavy clouds announced the rain in the evening. He forgot the adolescent girls and Pensa to its course of the next day to the Agronomic Institute of the nearby town. His mother was preparing her suitcase for the week. Great hot shower followed by a solid meal and it might jump into the train where the waited long chats with the buddies who returned also their rooms of students. Viktor viewing the slideshow of Professor of Horticulture which showed the evolution of the growth of tulips. It is precisely the beginning of this course who had inspired the weekend. He was thinking to this delicious time spent in gardening in front of the bay window of the living room of its parents. And as a surprise or a gift, the even laugh aguicheur sounds in the audience. Nobody reacted and he understood that his memory of hearing him played a tower in its way. He was the only one to hear this laugh that arose in his brain to remind him that other "nice plants " that the tulips existed. He shrugged and focused again on the slideshow. When he told the incident to its usual Potes, they mocked joyfully to him. "Repressed desire, my old! "Raillaient boys. And girls added a falsely air comforter: "You The reverras next Sunday... " Marika was silent because she was in love with Viktor and he was not doubted not. She hoped with all his heart that adolescent girls would never be back in front of the house For Descartes, assigning to man the reason, God has given him the means to administer the nature. In his speech of the method, it announces that the man will be able to make "as master and possessor of the nature" .The idea of a conquest of the nature remains but it is no longer only the fact of a spiritual authority all powerful. This are essentially the laity, with the help of a Church often compromised, which now manage the territories. In the xviiith century, Voltaire will fight against the compromise of clerics. He will say: "If you want to be careful, the Apostolic Roman Catholic religion is, in all of these ceremonies and in all its dogmas, the opposite of the religion of Jesus" . Thanks to the reason, man and society are able to manage by themselves the nature in a rational way. The nature is perceived as a potential which the man can take advantage. The nature, potentially, is at the service of the individual.
Toward the contemporary era Ornament of another age, your skin, silk effects Parchment, shudder, neglected in the satin of thy bodice. Its fruits wilted, wrinkled seasons, seek alms A caress in the oblivion of memories exiles, confidants of your sadness. Fragile hiémale shadow Welcome to solitary arm the young shoots pristine of thy coming winters. The Annals are bare, resurrect the past smiles to the axle of the virtue that cultivates the field of thy thought. At the end of the winter, gently thine eyelids, diapré sunblind on the ocean of memories, will seal thy faint sloes, will fly over the swallow and then, the Ataraxie will lead you to the golden beaches where your soul fall asleep. We will remember my PII, we will remember. - What do you want the dogs know, Claire? Is it that thou delusions? - Not, Pierre. They know... they know that we will not go... - What is it is that this history? Of course we are going to go back... Come, Sophie! We have just returned! Sophie arose at the same time as the wind, a violent wind that moved packets of loose snow, and I lifted up mine eyes: I screws then a sky obscured and yet white, tinged with stormy gusts and snow-covered, a madness which we would not get out alive, I understood then. Sophie began to howl: I am consisting of delicate Minerals Manufactured with love and tenderness by a small be charming, little noisy. A tiny cell in the muffled end bottom of a cavity Oceanic, it has left me grow to provide a two parts in snail. We live in symbiosis until the day where he met his half, owner of a loft last cry, on a coral barrier. I found myself alone and empty in the middle of a stormy sea. Worn by the movements of the marine basin, I failed on a beach Blond, shaped by the dust of my confreres overwritten, rolled by the time and the tides. I was crossed by hermits and other Bernardine crabs, without never to be the elected of their heart. Nice refuge, too small for family use. What do they all have to want to establish a family? I was expecting there, rocked to the rhythm of the tides, heated by the sun, sated of iodine and kelp, listening to the TERRESTRIAL Vibration, when a hand envious I raised for m study of an eye exercised: chamarrée color, brilliance mother-of-pearl gray rosé, crossed chips, bronze, form convoluted, little scars, a few small white coral sprinkled on the carapace reflecting a history, drawing a face, a solitude assumed, desired. Of the hand, I was slipping in the pocket of a Waterproof Marine Blue, i crus choke. More air, more water, where is the sun? The burning of the SALT I lack. I bathed long in this pocket, months, years, I do not know more. I finished by fall asleep.
A night of great tide, without knowing how or why, a hand enveloping warm and withdrew me of the pocket, surprised by my presence, where do you come? Ah if the tulips could talk! They would tell the life of their gardener... At the beginning of the fall, he dreamed the bulbs that he was going to planting. It refined the earth which would her babies. The gestation of the flowers would take at least six months. And then would come the multicolored reward! During the time that he worked, pretty girls spent by bike. They quadrillaient The Neighborhood to locate the beautiful boys strong and muscular as our gardener. It was the tender age of small Folies bucolic. A laugh sounded stronger than the other and Viktor saw the small light in the eyes of the cyclist. He made him a sign of the hand and continued its plantations. He had to finish quickly because of heavy clouds announced the rain in the evening. He forgot the adolescent girls and Pensa to its course of the next day to the Agronomic Institute of the nearby town. His mother was preparing her suitcase for the week. Great hot shower followed by a solid meal and it might jump into the train where the waited long chats with the buddies who returned also their rooms of students. Viktor viewing the slideshow of Professor of Horticulture which showed the evolution of the growth of tulips. It is precisely the beginning of this course who had inspired the weekend. He was thinking to this delicious time spent in gardening in front of the bay window of the living room of its parents. And as a surprise or a gift, the even laugh aguicheur sounds in the audience. Nobody reacted and he understood that his memory of hearing him played a tower in its way. He was the only one to hear this laugh that arose in his brain to remind him that other "nice plants " that the tulips existed. He shrugged and focused again on the slideshow. When he told the incident to its usual Potes, they mocked joyfully to him. "Repressed desire, my old! "Raillaient boys. And girls added a falsely air comforter: "You The reverras next Sunday... " Marika was silent because she was in love with Viktor and he was not doubted not. She hoped with all his heart that adolescent girls would never be back in front of the house For Descartes, assigning to man the reason, God has given him the means to administer the nature. In his speech of the method, it announces that the man will be able to make "as master and possessor of the nature" .The idea of a conquest of the nature remains but it is no longer only the fact of a spiritual authority all powerful. This are essentially the laity, with the help of a Church often compromised, which now manage the territories. In the xviiith century, Voltaire will fight against the compromise of clerics. He will say: "If you want to be careful, the Apostolic Roman Catholic religion is, in all of these ceremonies and in all its dogmas, the opposite of the religion of Jesus" . Thanks to the reason, man and society are able to manage by themselves the nature in a rational way. The nature is perceived as a potential which the man can take advantage. The nature, potentially, is at the service of the individual.
Toward the contemporary era Ornament of another age, your skin, silk effects Parchment, shudder, neglected in the satin of thy bodice. Its fruits wilted, wrinkled seasons, seek alms A caress in the oblivion of memories exiles, confidants of your sadness. Fragile hiémale shadow Welcome to solitary arm the young shoots pristine of thy coming winters. The Annals are bare, resurrect the past smiles to the axle of the virtue that cultivates the field of thy thought. At the end of the winter, gently thine eyelids, diapré sunblind on the ocean of memories, will seal thy faint sloes, will fly over the swallow and then, the Ataraxie will lead you to the golden beaches where your soul fall asleep. We will remember my PII, we will remember. - What do you want the dogs know, Claire? Is it that thou delusions? - Not, Pierre. They know... they know that we will not go... - What is it is that this history? Of course we are going to go back... Come, Sophie! We have just returned! Sophie arose at the same time as the wind, a violent wind that moved packets of loose snow, and I lifted up mine eyes: I screws then a sky obscured and yet white, tinged with stormy gusts and snow-covered, a madness which we would not get out alive, I understood then. Sophie began to howl: I am consisting of delicate Minerals Manufactured with love and tenderness by a small be charming, little noisy. A tiny cell in the muffled end bottom of a cavity Oceanic, it has left me grow to provide a two parts in snail. We live in symbiosis until the day where he met his half, owner of a loft last cry, on a coral barrier. I found myself alone and empty in the middle of a stormy sea. Worn by the movements of the marine basin, I failed on a beach Blond, shaped by the dust of my confreres overwritten, rolled by the time and the tides. I was crossed by hermits and other Bernardine crabs, without never to be the elected of their heart. Nice refuge, too small for family use. What do they all have to want to establish a family? I was expecting there, rocked to the rhythm of the tides, heated by the sun, sated of iodine and kelp, listening to the TERRESTRIAL Vibration, when a hand envious I raised for m study of an eye exercised: chamarrée color, brilliance mother-of-pearl gray rosé, crossed chips, bronze, form convoluted, little scars, a few small white coral sprinkled on the carapace reflecting a history, drawing a face, a solitude assumed, desired. Of the hand, I was slipping in the pocket of a Waterproof Marine Blue, i crus choke. More air, more water, where is the sun? The burning of the SALT I lack. I bathed long in this pocket, months, years, I do not know more. I finished by fall asleep. A night of great tide, without knowing how or why, a hand enveloping warm and withdrew me of the pocket, surprised by my presence, where do you come? Ah if the tulips could talk! They would tell the life of their gardener... At the beginning of the fall, he dreamed the bulbs that he was going to planting. It refined the earth which would her babies. The gestation of the flowers would take at least six months. And then would come the multicolored reward!
During the time that he worked, pretty girls spent by bike. They quadrillaient The Neighborhood to locate the beautiful boys strong and muscular as our gardener. It was the tender age of small Folies bucolic. A laugh sounded stronger than the other and Viktor saw the small light in the eyes of the cyclist. He made him a sign of the hand and continued its plantations. He had to finish quickly because of heavy clouds announced the rain in the evening. He forgot the adolescent girls and Pensa to its course of the next day to the Agronomic Institute of the nearby town. His mother was preparing her suitcase for the week. Great hot shower followed by a solid meal and it might jump into the train where the waited long chats with the buddies who returned also their rooms of students. Viktor viewing the slideshow of Professor of Horticulture which showed the evolution of the growth of tulips. It is precisely the beginning of this course who had inspired the weekend. He was thinking to this delicious time spent in gardening in front of the bay window of the living room of its parents. And as a surprise or a gift, the even laugh aguicheur sounds in the audience. Nobody reacted and he understood that his memory of hearing him played a tower in its way. He was the only one to hear this laugh that arose in his brain to remind him that other "nice plants " that the tulips existed. He shrugged and focused again on the slideshow.
When he told the incident to its usual Potes, they mocked joyfully to him. "Repressed desire, my old! "Raillaient boys. And girls added a falsely air comforter: "You The reverras next Sunday... " Marika was silent because she was in love with Viktor and he was not doubted not. She hoped with all his heart that adolescent girls would never be back in front of the house For Descartes, assigning to man the reason, God has given him the means to administer the nature. In his speech of the method, it announces that the man will be able to make "as master and possessor of the nature" .The idea of a conquest of the nature remains but it is no longer only the fact of a spiritual authority all powerful. This are essentially the laity, with the help of a Church often compromised, which now manage the territories. In the xviiith century, Voltaire will fight against the compromise of clerics. He will say: "If you want to be careful, the Apostolic Roman Catholic religion is, in all of these ceremonies and in all its dogmas, the opposite of the religion of Jesus" . Thanks to the reason, man and society are able to manage by themselves the nature in a rational way. The nature is perceived as a potential which the man can take advantage. The nature, potentially, is at the service of the individual. Toward the contemporary era
Published on Wednesday, December 27 2017 by kamel ouati