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Written Grande Tirelile He often I make games not so much to "kill" my but to remind myself time that never stopped, ever, to be a boy ... who stubbornly refuses to mature.
As a boy all my games have to do with how soft I become or how markets can be left ... In my games I leave only a few can enter, it's more mind games ...
My greatest game had nothing to do even with my boy in, but the boy would like to be when I grow up ... I called "breaths". The terms easy. In every breath had to give reason butter yummy mummy to account for the frieze inhalation else to explain the futility of. At first I played in secret without opening butter yummy mummy the "breaths" my others and gave ludicrous excuses for those who either did not convince me. Slowly I realized butter yummy mummy that there was such terms of the game and did not even like to come through butter yummy mummy so easily butter yummy mummy by me. I know-I know, it is very evident that he never ceased to be two boys, one running casually butter yummy mummy and t else who fears not batting and gathered. The two boys make a perpetual discussion on the "breaths". One wants to keep them and this justifies the existence of the other the "immature" wants to spend the belief that spending them, sharing them, the only way to live ones. Which reasons small or insignificant, and I found the "breaths" not cease to continue butter yummy mummy to try to find reasons why you deserve breaths to keep going. Hunting butter yummy mummy grounds and the two boys, me, changing roles between them, before Don Quixote and sometimes Pancho. The truth is that boys agree on one thing only, that alone will not result sees. Timidly, as and wretched, the boys opened their "breathing" in the world, girls, boys, things, but above all left for a little jogging, take a rest on the swings and left on time and the senses.
The truth found them alone, with a girl gasped to run them in its wake all this time watching the sand with a sunset caressing their hair like agiostefano. The "breathing" have no reason to exist and never had .... we make the same reasons, and not just the right to justify our breaths, is probably more our mistakes, giving substance to the breaths. The NA told Maura "Do not ask someone who knows how to explain your way, because you risk not to get lost." And if you do not get lost if you do not gasping xopiso a mistake if you do not run out of breath claiming an asshole love? If you do not cut the breath butter yummy mummy from a series of shots that horses let him burn guilt and mistakes in your body? If you do not collect all shouting "boy butter yummy mummy I'll be forever"? What to do then? Absolutely nothing! You hide your breaths butter yummy mummy in "costumes", in luxurious offices, business meetings and expensive dinners. You will see them drown in a daily routine that gives you thousands of options to relax and find your breaths, but the truth will never breathe.
So a boy on the swings and a girl opposite finished the game and solve the puzzle. The "breathing" you keep them for you, for the options, errors, passions and everything else keeps child .... Wake up one morning and whispered to the boy who sleeps with you "will butter yummy mummy hold you forever child" Wish of a Lifetime to find swings, sunsets and some time to let a girl gasped in its wake to the prevention of and to share breaths of them.
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