Yeah, it's summer. Not even summer summer, but that the spring board brazen.
In such moments I listen and hear clearly the sound of grinding of the earth, and you convince yourself unequivocally that the world is sixteen years old.
begin to blaze right now, so brilliant seasons in blue and impartially, the others. Those brand new. Flower girls, girls with soft curls at the nape, the navels round the ankles points, the smell of vanilla and green wood. Boys
rough and velvety, raw of adolescence, of recent energy, wonderful and very balanced.
Moves forgetfulness, in the air. Sometimes even shake the sheets of our old albums, where the scripts are cataloged minutely moves, intentions, screenplays. A strip that is seen in the hips, the shoulder line, a cheekbone do justice to any argument.
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