am sad last night, announcing that a house in my heart has stopped beating. The one that contained it was a being joyful, loving up in agony, impossible to segregate into a corner. I would say, perhaps, an exhibitionist and self-centered as I am, but much less pedantic also because it lacks the ability to speak but not to express themselves, it takes only one look to understand their intentions and sometimes you could not help but smile, I just think that would be accompanied to sleep like babies. Of the many images I have of her in a special light to the eyes and I imagine flakes white mantle of snow on its ebony color.
see her suffer was a pain but it is heartbreaking to see her and now her dust is already airborne. In the silence of the night I can still hear it and instead is only the voice of the valley. We'll miss
Geneva ...
