There once was a young army sweep with a broom and dustpan. Every day after the market close, broom and trash filth. But instead of doing a job order, were busy up and down, left and right, as drawn to those spots where the asphalt was more accumulated dirt. It almost seemed he wanted to wipe them as quickly as possible. However, the minutes passed, and while you shake from side to side of the square waving her broom, dirt continues unabated. It did not seem care much: he had always looked quiet, indeed, after a while 'ended up being just so joyful that we were missing that would begin to bounce with the paddle in his hand. Then, when she seemed to have ended up the good work, look into the paddle, gave a final sweep, then stopped and, on time, he sighed, happy to satisfaction. Oh yes, because at this point, drawn on the bottom of his tool, he could see the chubby face and a little 'sad a toad! Then sweep it looked into his eyes and whispered a few kind words, and then, with a snap of his fingers, did raise a gust of wind while swinging the paddle swiftly threw everything in the air what he had just collected. So a slight cloud of colored dust rose in front of her, and for one precious moment, took the form of a prince. Happy, she sent him a kiss with his hand, just a moment before they vanish. Then, after that the cloud of dust had disappeared along with the prince, the sweep was still a moment to look ahead, the whole dreamy, slowly recovered from the vision so beautiful that gave each time the heartbeat, and then started again to work: her eyes still sparkled, went back to Sweep the square of the market. And
passersby who happened to be the view they would have noticed a simple sweep, orderly and industrious, who performed with great care in cleaning when he was assigned, from beginning to end, without even leaving the ground a piece of dust, and maybe someone would see the grind, along with much care, that his bright, unmotivated, smile.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Sore Itchy Blisters On Buttocks
The sweep and dust - for short film idea
Friday, April 20, 2007
9-month-old Chest Rattles
Friday, April 13, 2007
Kimberly Hultin Amidie
Elevation (Charles Baudelaire)
Far away from the pond, away from the sea,
beyond the plains, mountains, clouds,
beyond the atmosphere, planets, sun,
beyond the boundaries of ball star,
my spirit, you move with agility,
and, like a swimmer in a swoon on the wave, the immensity
furrows gaily
with manly deep and ineffable pleasure.
Volatene away from morbid miasma;
goes' to purify the air above,
and drink, as a pure and divine liqueur,
the fire that fills the space bright light.
Away from the troubles and anxieties long
crushing weight of their existence misty
Blessed is he that a stroke of wing vigorous
can soar to heights serene and bright;
He whose thoughts, like a sparrow fast ,
to the sky in the morning stands free flight
Who plana life, and includes all alone
The language of flowers and things without a voice!
Far away from the pond, away from the sea,
beyond the plains, mountains, clouds,
beyond the atmosphere, planets, sun,
beyond the boundaries of ball star,
my spirit, you move with agility,
and, like a swimmer in a swoon on the wave, the immensity
furrows gaily
with manly deep and ineffable pleasure.
Volatene away from morbid miasma;
goes' to purify the air above,
and drink, as a pure and divine liqueur,
the fire that fills the space bright light.
Away from the troubles and anxieties long
crushing weight of their existence misty
Blessed is he that a stroke of wing vigorous
can soar to heights serene and bright;
He whose thoughts, like a sparrow fast ,
to the sky in the morning stands free flight
Who plana life, and includes all alone
The language of flowers and things without a voice!
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Trick Bike Birthday Cake Ideas
Green Willow
A
Give the language in class naked, juicy
the foam.
Porgila to shoot slowly drop
What
bitter smell and pleasure.
A
D. Gabry, with estimated
Give the language in class naked, juicy
the foam.
Porgila to shoot slowly drop
What
bitter smell and pleasure.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Technics Stereo Fault F61
My love for me you're the key Of a heart
claustrophobic locked in a trunk,
You are my air, a kiss in the snow:
the sun will melt your fears into joy.
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