Why Is Insurance High For Coupes

Post # 16: Alzheimer

For a person who is still there, but no more.

(21-02-10 Change: For a person who is no more, yet there still.)

There was a man close to the bed. His movements were slow, thoughtful. The man, too old to die again, went to the window with his sour breath dance and from there the city and its imperfections, enjoying the curves and superimposing their own. He played the scent of sacred symmetries whispering one last light tear night, children play with the dreams and also played him in to see change anything but himself: see the world slipping through a window and observe it. He did not want to save it, just watch it fall, from rest. Alive. Living outside seeing that flows from the center. The opacity of the thoughts of others forces man to reality, or at least one of those endless, and everything becomes a game, once again: the truth on the one hand, the man on the other. Choose a card. The gather what. Always.

The fresh dawn caressing a man who hugged the dissolution own reality with the truth. Among the hands. The same hands that had built up a world with truth and reality of demons inside, once the men, once a love. The man saw the world and just slip the instant it disappeared into the mist, he realized that it was his own. And from that moment the man would have cherished a new dawn: new words to build new trails that give a sense of silence in which new patterns will be written, in which what is slipped into the fog becomes a demon, yet . A dead man can not go: you choose a card, keep it forever.

There was a man near a window, and perhaps I was there recently away, and there was a smell of what was once called joy, under the same dawn that brought joy smile. There was my reality, presumed truth in my hands that have built anything yet, then I saw a slide world, mine, and I saw a man, too old to die yet, look at me slip away.

and not recognize.

He just wants to play. Let him play. Demons. At one time men

one time love.

How Long Does It Take For An Abscess

Post # 15: The Genius (Part Three )

We left extremely happy. The recovered as Force. Another surprise, your Lordship had already been warned about what could be the unpredictable complexity of melodic genius. Now let the Genie to rejoice in the defeat. Moving on to the summit. The summit is still, as each peak. Once again, the Genie will be moving. There will come. Come back. Die. Yet another fruitless journey.

The peak of the mountain created by the Engineers Corps of Engineers assumes the features, shaped by her smile full of iron, the satisfaction it creates.

Now, here is the genius who climbs. And now look at the genius that creates the meantime, yet. They should see the genius who created peaks and did not create stairs, look at the genius who climbs, his hands red with blood, one blood with which the peak continues to rise. Look at the engineering scale and grow along the mountain. Look at the god who can not climb himself, observed that the blood of Genius solidifies, kissing rock new rock. Look at this crazy hanging in the bowels of a mountain, watch it now. Does not want to save? Look at that blood running and the peak that reaches the airwaves to discover its emptiness, filling it. Now, here, and choose its end: no change, salt, and he climbs the mountain. Cade blood. Cade pain. This change.

is perhaps not want to save?

Look at that blood. Look at that strength. Look at the blood becomes Force. Then look at your face. Look at the face of Engineers. Again.

Genie laughs.

thus made. You all go, go, run you all to climb. Follow, follow the insane, followed the Genius. Run well, praise the genius. Praise her laugh. Rock flourishes, it grows. Now the summit is no longer visible. And the higher the peak, your blood thicker, wider smile. The engineering scale, observe it, not interested choir behind him, the Genius just wants to climb. But it's too late now.

Meanwhile, the sky, still and empty, looks on. Silent.

Now turn to me, I stare. I hate it.

Anger rises to the top again. There is maybe willing to shoot them down?