___More Que words___
I feel like saying that there is nothing better than being born of a passion.
The fire is in your chest, the restlessness of the mind and the desire to be with her.
There is no rationality, no prudence. For what?
All I want is to see it, hear it, feel it, …
All I want is to live this passion.
[You can read this to the tune of The Lightning Strike]
-Finished, sorry, it was not you.
[You can read this text to the sound of Never Thought That I Could Love-Dan Hill w / Lyrics]
Nobody is born knowing floor. I say, always good enthusiast gentleness of life, it took me at least fifteen months to begin to contemplate the painful possibility of raising my beautiful ass filled with talc and welcoming Hipoglós of laps that rocked me so maternally. When I got up, of course it was not that great: lacking coordination, lacked attention, lacked concentration, lacked provision. The Curtinhas legs did not get along very well. Not moved at the same pace. Ended, sooner or later, always giving a way to tear down that beautiful baby on the floor silly. And how many tumbles. And how many mourners. And how many laughs. And how many purples.