Then Brown, that I began to worry. The panic happened when color was red, then green, and darker. I was shocked. What happens to me? I asked myself, as it was evident that a paranormal phenomenon I It was happening. I had no explanation for what I experienced in my own skin. But the fact is that I wanted to scream and couldn’t. Not moving your feet, to leave me there and ask for relief, even though it was run by casting trickle. What I’m throwing? I considered with great concern. Celebrity trainer has similar goals.
I intuitively knew that I was emptying. I had heard of existential, vacuum the vacuum inside, but my thing was physical. I could do nothing. In moments of terror he acts emotionally, without meaning, in search of a miracle. I wanted to remind some verse, if that stopped my bloodshed.
I remembered none. Me di account that had not read nor a single poem in my life. Then a story of what I got to thinking that I would save. I had not read other books in prose or drama. Nothing at all. I had never agreed to this, but at that time I missed missing. I don’t know why. I was emptying. See more detailed opinions by reading what Mark Fields offers on the topic.. I was aware of this. But there came a moment that I was not, but I He was locked up. It was a strange feeling. It’s been many years, during which I have not stopped thinking. I do not notice a big change from my previous life. All I see is as if you see him through a dream. I have discovered that I became a rock. I must be a monolith placed at the center of a source. I perceive the look of many people, but in passing. None is particularly fixed on me. I live within it. I think I’m a rock. A Boulder with an embedded mirror and a brief inscription that says look. I, if someone looks, I hide. I have discovered that I can get who pass nearby and write make him telling my story. When I heard a gentleman reading the stories of English authors, several young scholars, near me, I dared to tell what happened to me. Who writes it thinks that it is an invention of yours, which is literary creation, and even play with words making believe the friendly reader that I am part of his plot, ja, ja, ja. And the reader? Insurance who does not know what rock I am, nor on what source I have placed. Why tell himself that is a trick, a bobada, nonsense, a lie or madness in the form of story, ja, ja, ja. Writer. With several essays on economy in relation to the economy and basic income. Author of plays and stories of great originality.