WHAT DOES LIVING SOUL?
What soul lives? Did I not nourished with a knife, all year, in a table spread? A sip drank misery of others. And there in the footsteps of the Titans, I stumble with my soul. Ah, a witch! Just hear the first touch, you fionderà. Whether the outskirts of Moscow, or both morning. And then he says here is here. He says: “Evita least patronizing, oh you sir, you are master of your old age? Oh you ladies, secret abyss are not united? Perhaps you are not joined to the bottom, with each strand of natural trembling nell’insaziabile drought. This only lives. “The body, bone mud. But the siren screams in the lead, collecting all in one, every effort, every hair. The inevitable is revealed, exorcising hastily: temporal bone! Time white Christmas! Dark hell! Ventricular arrhythmia!