Just was speechless. And that stole my heart and it concluded: We drink tea on Sunday afternoon, th

because Alexander soon had to go down on 1263. Let's go wild - on streets, in puddles. To behave like fools. To povarnem on bench to turn bucket. On posters scratching mustache. Screaming after us: "Rubbish, the great gtasby this you learned in school." Let me take off your pants in front of the municipality. Touch me secretly in the crowd. Us giddy about sex. Basma blankets the great gtasby to a noise in our ears - with bloodstains stains of copper. To get lost in this city fuck yourself in Lozenets, in Liulin in Gorublyane. To crucify the map of Sofia, to make tourists. Prepikaem to foreign territories, gardens, spaces. Through them to push as urchins and also under Chinese lanterns behind the Courthouse, University and so on again because you'll start to cook again. Rusted the great gtasby ladle. Family workshops darkened in the cabinet. Copper pots forgotten aroma of fried onions with red pepper, of cardamom, bay leaf and bechamel. Will again fill the jars with spices. The house - with sweet scents. I'll make creme brulee. the great gtasby Chocolate souffle. Apples the great gtasby with caramel. Gingerbread with orange. In darkened dishes - slices of sweet apricot. In china invites - syrup of roses and raspberries. And crowds the great gtasby of onlookers the great gtasby will again started to crowd lots in the neighborhood. Will push will whisper: "That - its insane, out" Imagine our summer bathroom with steam from Fisto grandmother, soap scented lavender towels with ducklings and colored quince. Imagine also quiet, sunny rabbits on the wall, wooden hangers and metal beds, my childhood photos (not just shoot in pants). Imagine my basket with toys, dolls without eyelashes, red chair, dishes, the great gtasby teapot with lid, yellow donkey with rings. Imagine and cardboard suitcase with my shabby clothes with straw hats. The most beautiful I was in a purple dress - with steering wheels and points. Imagine also Gerana (cat in it drowned grandfather said: "To save the grandmother," and she did not get angry; suicide of love, grandfather, orange Vaska has gone, you go - smells of tobacco and mint, and he did not even look at me); so imagine and Gerani watermelon in an iron bucket, bowl with roses nails - stuck there from time immemorial. Imagine the great gtasby bedroom with spring embroidery on the edge of the sheet, my pajamas lace sewn with foot Mom. Imagine his weak body, how will you kiss only - with open eyes and lips, targets prunes. (From the rusty VEF grandfather - money combo and fado.) Imagine jeans expanse of the rain in mid-September, his shirts in the closet among pedesetarskite costumes. Imagine and go immediately the great gtasby drink tea on Sunday afternoon, the veil of home - lavender. No sugar, no lemons, no cups in the cupboard empty. But is delicious tea this afternoon. Nothing that no tea Tell me, please tell me: you dere "r" to your blood when you kiss; let you monitor your beard like a knife; one hundred years Serbs once bitten the heart of our "p"? All broken clocks - of "Pop", the "Pharmacy", "Journalist" cautious and lagging metered time without you. Number fright, arrhythmias, seizures at night. And there are those mornings - stoning to death.
Irena has no sense of your writings. Excuse the great gtasby me, I do not want to sound like nakakav idiot, but really with or without them - all this Answer the great gtasby Delete
Just was speechless. And that stole my heart and it concluded: We drink tea on Sunday afternoon, the veil of home - lavender. No sugar, no lemons, no cups in the cupboard empty. But is delicious tea this afternoon. Nothing that no tea Keep writing, a collection of poems magazine! :) Reply Delete
Ah, Mary is a myth. Forever as elitist (snobka), advanced (capricious), intermittent (but so does a charming). Presented in Bulgarian: Surrealism, Orthodoxy, cursed literature the great gtasby Balkan literatures of the twentieth century, Feminism, Bulgarian literature of the 90s, and several other topics, seeking the image of his reader. Magazine, which made of plagiarisms authors and authors known. Published over 700 of them. Started out as a magazine for literature and other pleasures. In 1990. Ah, Maria is a myth. Which means that it may not exist.
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