of a hourglass is constantly flowing out into the sand.

lust just a few short moments were
helped her wings: Insanity bird
savēcina the wings and die.

panes tremble sky. Oh, woman,
which atsalstot feelings, remain vulnerable, with no
halo, which will give you a man\'s lust!
Salto star in the distance thrown a woman. Heart
landscape is changing fast. . . Lust miss, miss
gentleness, long river of fire. Now clean, cool,
released from the body, he stands in the bow to go offshore.

It sometimes breaks the movie: nekustība
sastindzina everything, every moment becomes more important
than syncope, then life again tomorrow on.

We were lost in the world, because
at that time already knew that the first does not travel
change the skin.

Life is a play that too often we are only amateurs.

three virtues which are necessary for travel since Orpheus: courage, youth, love.

. . . on a chair thrown a white hat -
maybe her? What a nice mess: desolation instead of disarray, but reasonable in disarray,
which indicates the presence of people. It has kept
movement of the foot.

calmly steps. It walks a nun, kārtodama flowers on the altar.

trinket stuff. By the time they fill all the cabinets and shelves. Aiziedams
Every century the sea Ebb left coast
these shells.

how everything is simple: to live, sort of
luxury stuff, die. . .

people will throw out the sand, time
and distances will quite new meaning. It will be
travel in the fourth dimension.

landscape slīdējušas us along
eyes, but we kept in captivity only one landscape,
which inhibits their sand dunes, the sun silent exercise severity. We collapsed across
whole world. We are powerless, armed
the movements that they can do nothing more than drive after dark, frighten gazelles. Armed with
votes, well if you heard three hundred meters distant and not reach the people. We all
\'ve ever caught up to the unknown
planet.

I\'ve always loved the life,
what he did not understand very well, not very safe
life. I do not even know what I needed: a kind of enduring thirst. . .

It\'s a bit strange family that saves desk space with the deceased. They do not recognize
incorrigible. But I think the challenge
does not provide comfort. The dead must be dead. So they, being dead, making other
present form. But these families indefinitely postpone their return, they
makes them delay for life. Its
exchange of mourning for infertile expectations. And
I thought that this was inhibited by a family full of fear
weakness, which is stifling even tougher than in sorrow.