Martial, Lunatic, Atlas, Cereal

Café

She calls and he does not respond. She does not understand why she wants them to see themselves, they take a coffee together, they are friends. At first she did not wonder why he does not respond, and then she said that perhaps this is not so easy for him to drink coffee with her, be her friend now. She continues to call and one day he meets. It's almost too late already, or it will be soon, for coffee, she likes the time of closure, it remains alone on the terrace, all the tables around deserted her, and silent street, and the lights on the vacuum. She drinks a last coffee with eyes lost. She calls him and he finally answered. They will be the next day. He guesses that she is still in a cafe, there to be only a little at the time of closing. She feels he would blame him almost to be again, to sleep so late so soon.
They see the next day, already the night in a cafe. She wonders how long does it match, how long she has not seen, she does not know really.
He did not see her, he knew it was a bad idea to see her in a cafe, like all these pictures of her that he still sees too long from now, his hair very black and body almost disappeared, suddenly, it was this body of death like its predecessor, and his eyes still lost somewhere when it arrives, it is always already there, sitting in a cafe, with night. He knew he would not answer him, see - that this is not the same, to see really, and he could not. Just sitting in front of it he has his eyes on the black face, his eyes that burn and print, still, she looks at him without seeing him, she looks like a vacuum around it, and he said he would never accept the view, to see that she is still there, very black hair, the body almost disappeared. He does not know if it's panic, desire - the malaise that grips each time and its violent body, he hoped it would not be the case this time he did seen for a long time, - And perhaps it was precisely because of that, because he had almost forgotten what it was to see her. He feels his throat, his stomach is tied and he knows it is now inevitable, that is, throughout his body, blocked, he can not do anything about it or understand it a little - in a moment, he knows he will have to say, excuse me a moment and he'll get up, calmly, trying to look calm, walk slowly towards the toilet, as someone who simply go to the toilet, and then, when there will be more on him, his look, to rush, and he knows he will vomit again, vomit, vomit his desire her, her discomfort with her-as if it was something that his body could not stand, could not extirpate, and he had to go again, every time, every coffee to be friends now It was endless.
She looks and she says it's funny, he finally responded, it's a good thing can have a coffee, to be friends, talk a little, after all this time without answer, try again for a coffee. She smiled vaguely, or maybe she forgets to smile, she says that now he will answer no doubt they will more often it does not why they stopped seeing each other, to cafes, to be friends.
He said, excuse me a moment. She looks at who gets up quietly, it just goes to the bathroom.

Best Homemade Insulator

ATAYI

They are also on Jamendo where you can download their music. Of course, I'm a fan ....

How Long Will A 75 Amp Battery Last

Summertime ***

NY She dreams of a return to NY, this summer would be back - she dream that they go together, probably close to last, its incessant returns to NY, and the body multiplied and wanderers, children, when it was too small, almost, to really see, and then later, too often, as if going to NY again and again there was a way to give a picture of it. She remembers the hotels and frozen mirrors in the elevator who captured a bit and windows on Broadway and the sensation of being for herself elsewhere. Soho and Tribeca. Afterwards, she does not know. It was also still out of the summer, outside of herself, too, so that she could remember, she has only a few images, fragmented, and it still feels cold, she had the next time, bitterly cold, there was an apartment, and Battery Park, and the black water, or perhaps it was yet another time. She does not remember his absent body, she would remember, this lack of body, that body which the absent to itself, and it was so cold. It seems it had snowed a little. It is as if there were in NY with her whenever absence, strength to go back, unload it from a still image in the mirror lifts, in the screens, it does not recognize them, they said, it looks a little Mona Lisa, she looked a little sad perhaps, and they had to believe it was something else - it was probably something else . What she remembers best is probably the last summer in NY, but she does not know very well, either - the moist room and sleeping bodies and the heat of the city, and then return, again, alone, and the heat faded, and the hotel Central Park, and she drank only white wine on the terrace, the white dress, her bleeding feet. There was the burn on his shoulder, the sun stuck in his shoulder, bruising to his skin, NY and now in the rain as if it was for her. She did more than just dresses this summer, probably due to yet another body, she took him to NY to relieve himself once again, abandoned in the hotel Glossy Again, only it was the first time, she was also alone in NY, or just somewhere-maybe. She remembers that mirrors reflected the images that they still did not recognize, and tenderness, almost, for the past images, left to NY, without which she could recover. She remembers his return to Paris after that summer, last summer, and the feeling that it was irreversible, NY that was etched into his body, like a secret, she was afraid that it will eventually go too. It was gone very quickly, and without even noticing it, she could not know that that summer was last summer, it was, somehow, the end.

What Is My Local Police Frequency

Summer Time **

It burned the back of a sun that it ignores it did not see it, and then she no longer spoke, she let go of his skin burned fingers, and said nothing. He wanted her to say something. Her skin still on her fingers a little, as the sun is too strong to be detached from her, that sun which he knows nothing, and she still wears on his body. He wished she speaks again, she did not leave his hand burned his skin - he imagines bent under the sun there until collapsing on the ground, up 'to be, from one side, marked, and it's as if she could not really be his. He wonders if she has ever been it really, if there was not even before, when she was very white skin almost transparent, the sun somewhere. Maybe she had, somehow, you advance, with the streets too colorful and the smell of alcohol and the sea with skin from his fingers and his nearly naked body him and the night, he feels that he will never know. Maybe she had always belonged to the sun that burns at any time, through clothing almost that grabs undivided. It feels to feel something ice to his head and almost a detonation. She spoke of gunfire in the distance near the sea She said it was a vast sea, I have never seen a sea like this endlessly. Everywhere there was the sea she would speak again before leaving. He told her he wanted her to stop, to leave. He said because he knows she will leave anyway, despite the gunfire, and burns on his back, red spots that devour him back like a skin disease. He only knows it in her waiting to go again, she would tell her, she will return, but he knows she can not say that it can be restored only by chance, somehow by passing. It's as if she needed to live was always, she lived only summer everywhere. He said even before he had just not realizing it, believing it was only a form of recklessness, he remembers his very pale skin and her bright red lipstick, she spent his time doing nothing, he thought she was pretending. It was summer already, except that it was not realized it. This time it was stuck, and heavy, and the sun maybe. He knows very well. He wants her to tell her if she was pretending, doing nothing, apart from again. Had she lived another thing that was. He also said he would like, she parte do more, or maybe he just thinks hard, and he is reviewing, in airports, train stations, leaving, never looking back, never see, from watching, and waiting already.

Tawnee Stone What's New

Summer Time *

There's this song in the subway she did not expect to hear, or otherwise, so is the song of years buried, and that she had forgotten, almost, of a summer too Hot and hear it again feels the body in which it becomes entangled, body-heat, as if it was new that summer, there had been nothing, yet, then that everything was still, again maybe. It's the same deserted street on her window and probably the same desire. She left the body behind it. In the song may be somewhat unwittingly, she had listened too while and then never again, or once before and she remembers the voice that sang and later a face, but it ' was something else.

ago who said: I am twenty years and I feel I have more past than future and yet I do not think I've lived a lot. Do not thank me to cheer you up.

ago who said, you can take Xanax if you're depressed sometimes instead of traveling. Is not a joke. Do not get me wrong. This is not what I meant. But it does not hurt Xanax in low doses, it's just because people abuse them that there are orders. Ok forget I could not tell you about this.
He has a clear pocket inside his room and white pill, Stilnox Xanax Prozac is written in tiny, she looks for a moment the clear pocket without saying anything, he said nothing either, and she has a fear little.

ago who said, it's normal that you feel guilty, you need it because you have no problems. Your life is perfect. You're lucky. You know you're in luck. I also feel guilty in these cases. I mean, because it is as if there was a problem when there is no problem. Finally you see. Try to rationalize it.

There is this song on the subway she did not expect to hear, or otherwise then, again without the summer so far, so far that it's almost anyone else, almost before First, before it all starts - she did not know it yet, so it was only the beginning, it would leave behind her body swollen with heat and expectation, that expectation hung irrelevant, it would maintain a perfect life, it would be so lucky.

ago who told him: you're twenty years, you are idealistic, this is normal and he looks dead eyes already. He looks like he knew everything about her already, he knows nothing yet, he wants nothing to do. You do not know what you want to do, and he laughs. You are so lucky.