My problem is that I have shortness of breath. Oh, and do not depend on mica by the fact that I am a bit 'overweight, and then run do not talk about it at all. No, I have little say in general. To say, in the past days I threw out a post after another after not even remember how long. I mean, I'm scared too! Oh, see what happens now that I take the rhythm and I write every day as serious ones. No, not at all, the wind pulled me back and I am short tumble in either half of the marathon. Yes, but then, where we run? Okay, I do not have a problem, it's the same thing when I do not write for the blog. I tell really long quasi-novel I've never baked, even there after a while 'breath and pulls me goodbye, if I stop to stretch risk of that water so that I do to pay the first story in the sea. Same thing with the passions of a moment, then take them back unless I burn quickly in hand with time.
Behold, I have a nice Cioppo of interests which occasionally come back to the surface, such as indigestion or gas bubbles underwater. There are neanderthal and a bit 'all matters relating to the Stone Age, then, if we go back, the whole evolutionary history of man, and even beyond the dinosaurs and their contemporaries pterosaurs (my favorite since I was a child ), but if you rewind fast forward there are some scattered around the world civilization, the Aztec is one of those on which I am documenting in more detail at this time, but already known that decreases the frequency of reading, and then even there we see that I pushed too hard on the accelerator. I function well, a bit 'wrong, but it's a manufacturing defect desperate. So then returns cyclically this or that curiosity, and then tell me updated on all these things in a pattern to say the least erratic, like a child who blindfolded him and put his hand in a bowl to catch the numbers. Yes, just like the lottery - or the lottery (I did not understand the difference mica, and since I do not care I never filled this gap). The desire to write is wandering, indeed more than anything else is inspiration. That
daughter of Sultan is a street cat, you can bet his mustache from hawk do not have. It makes you purr and then is distracted, spring because he saw something that has distracted from the sparrow out of the window at the dinner ready. He is away for days and when you look back as if to say, "I'm looking for?. Or am I that I did not discipline - eh, you can bet on that the pituitary gland that instead force you to - I do not know to manage and live in the wild, I act a bit 'like a tiger's daughter miagolante dwarf, which is why all in all, I did not take appearance (perhaps also because, having been trained by my cat to live in accordance with a creature adorably dictatorial), are now a fear that is accommodating. That's so, maybe I have shortness of breath because I am calm as a cat. Or a lake. Or a lake of cats. If something catches my eye does not give up until I'm sick, often leaving there anything else I should do instead, or terminate. That must be why pull a long story is not from me, although I'd be able to write a book, and I'm going to try it sooner or later, maybe starting from a series of stories that come together. So here is yes, may be the only way to get out of me something. Which is how I function in all things, in small portions joined together. Here, but I do not know how to finish this post precisely because I pull my breath, so close here and meow.
Behold, I have a nice Cioppo of interests which occasionally come back to the surface, such as indigestion or gas bubbles underwater. There are neanderthal and a bit 'all matters relating to the Stone Age, then, if we go back, the whole evolutionary history of man, and even beyond the dinosaurs and their contemporaries pterosaurs (my favorite since I was a child ), but if you rewind fast forward there are some scattered around the world civilization, the Aztec is one of those on which I am documenting in more detail at this time, but already known that decreases the frequency of reading, and then even there we see that I pushed too hard on the accelerator. I function well, a bit 'wrong, but it's a manufacturing defect desperate. So then returns cyclically this or that curiosity, and then tell me updated on all these things in a pattern to say the least erratic, like a child who blindfolded him and put his hand in a bowl to catch the numbers. Yes, just like the lottery - or the lottery (I did not understand the difference mica, and since I do not care I never filled this gap). The desire to write is wandering, indeed more than anything else is inspiration. That
daughter of Sultan is a street cat, you can bet his mustache from hawk do not have. It makes you purr and then is distracted, spring because he saw something that has distracted from the sparrow out of the window at the dinner ready. He is away for days and when you look back as if to say, "I'm looking for?. Or am I that I did not discipline - eh, you can bet on that the pituitary gland that instead force you to - I do not know to manage and live in the wild, I act a bit 'like a tiger's daughter miagolante dwarf, which is why all in all, I did not take appearance (perhaps also because, having been trained by my cat to live in accordance with a creature adorably dictatorial), are now a fear that is accommodating. That's so, maybe I have shortness of breath because I am calm as a cat. Or a lake. Or a lake of cats. If something catches my eye does not give up until I'm sick, often leaving there anything else I should do instead, or terminate. That must be why pull a long story is not from me, although I'd be able to write a book, and I'm going to try it sooner or later, maybe starting from a series of stories that come together. So here is yes, may be the only way to get out of me something. Which is how I function in all things, in small portions joined together. Here, but I do not know how to finish this post precisely because I pull my breath, so close here and meow.
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