Vale, took from seven in the evening, and are now a quarter to eleven, trying to make the pu ... Ether job title: Ireland.
I've wanted to do with Gothic letters, well, very cool ... Except for the miserable little detail that are a ... Put ... fucking with ... bloody disgusting! Uuuuuufff!
First, I entered the word Ireland, so I had to erase everything he had done (he had done to the first A), and shrink.
Again lyrics, to the N. .. and suddenly I realize that ... English is work, work is done in English ... And that the title had to be in English!
Back to erase ...
And back to draw the letters.
I enter a miracle: the D in Ireland it just me, and it is ugly ... But it was to remove the ovaries and running time to draw! So, I'm going to shower ...
I return, I look at my work ... I do not like, but I leave ... The
Remiro. Still do not like ... But he had done many times! What laziness! The
back to looked again ... and boraro start by ... Fourth time! Phew!
Finally, with great effort ... I got it!
Oeeee, oe, oe oe!
And, well, after this round clip and relief, I turn to focus.
You know what? Today I want to write something ... I do not know ... Any nonsense ...
We'll see what I get ...
rain slowly licks the window pane, wiping it with care.
The water falls gently, making a pleasant winter afternoon.
I curled further into the Scottish rug my grandmother. Still retains its sweet smell.
support my lips on a cup of hot chocolate by the fire, which burns steadily, warming the atmosphere.
's cold, very cold. The thermometer on the window tells me to be six degrees. However, this cold and rain create a relaxed and welcoming.
leave my cup of hot chocolate beside me on the carpet where I lie and come back to catch the old thick book and I'm reading.
"lit a third match. Soon was seen sitting under a magnificent Christmas tree, was richer and better than last Christmas Eve saw through the window of the house of a wealthy merchant.
She raised both hands, the match went. All tree lights rose and he saw that they were only stars.
The Little Match Girl has always been one of my favorite stories. Realistic, sad, palpable, cold and cruel . Andersen was not writing for children, of course.
And yet, as a child I appreciated.
I'm sick of stories for little girls, all cheesy and sappy, who spoke of enchanted princes and princesses blue that they could not solve their problems by themselves.
turn the page.
Oh, the Little Mermaid!
reflected how I remember all those fairy tales adapters. Liars.
The Little Mermaid is one of the few atosuficientes princesses, who really was in love. The only princess who knows what love is unrequited.
Eye
ran through the lines, diluting each of the words carefully (and sometimes difficult to understand because of facsimile) on pages lived.
"the prince asked him who he was and whence he came, she looked at him with fresh air and afflicted unable to say a word. Then the young man took her hand and took the castle. Every step was, as I said the witch, causing her excruciating pain, however, the arm of the prince ascended the marble staircase as light as a ball of soap and they all admired her walk funny. "
"- Ah," thought the little mermaid, unaware that it was me who took him through the water to the convent to save her. Love each other. "
"And the little mermaid, lifting her arms to the sky cried for the first time. Were heard again in the ship songs of joy, but saw him and his lovely wife looking wistfully playful foam water as if they knew that she had rushed in waves. Invisible, hugged the wife of Prince, gum smile and then her husband came up with the other daughters of the air in a cloud of pink rose to the sky. "
Y, and similarly when it closes a book, my eyes close, but not to forget the stories I just read, but to revive in the world of my own dreams. From my own stories.
Well ... What has left me ^ ^?
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