letters no longer flow. "The country of last things" from the table looking at me asking to be critical. Centuries ago I'm not going to the movies and be part of your magazine I'm excited. Blow
cakes with candles and I call that arrived late or never arrived. Meanwhile, a bombing crisis, the bullet train, smoke, ash, money, money, money ...
light was going and I'm no window to the world. I look at my agenda that I do not want to add names. The quota was filled and now without them I do not lift a finger.
need a week of oxygen and new projects. I have patience. I enjoy it, make it mine, because I know one day I will miss.
