Its name was Dalila. Its hair were clear and esbeltos, its body were so beautiful, delineated so well She was a perfect woman! Ah, if God was so good the point of presentear me with the singeleza and enchantment of Dalila! It then walked calm and esbelta for amongst passarela, to look it, to dream of its so delicate hands and tenras, But they are chimeras, and, in this way, I will complicate myself in my proper narration where I am it writer-presenciador of my proper utopias. I will tell in few lines the magician and the horror to you of the wild passion, rich reader, the point to place me as an absolutely happy being only for being able to have the possibility to touch it nor that one alone time was. I am here to tell it, to tangle it, to cogitate it in my doidivanas memories. My memories have beginning in a typical scene of spring, therefore it was the rose and I it thorn, or I it sea and it the bluish ocean of our hearts. But let us leave of romantic citations. However it are me a moment of I do not remember myself what they are mysteries. Mysteries for what I cogitate are white submerged, occult, elliptical, but that they form some necessary investigations, as that they are these things.

Calme calme, already> I never had felt its sigh, of its hlito that I did not feel, I never felt its hlito (tears). I wanted to know its name, but he would forget they said if it. was probable indeed that I delighted myself in the roses Not, they did not have roses! I remembered cost to it. They had been the birds had made that me to remember of its kisses this already felt, therefore I imagined as they could be, of its skin ah, this yes, I I remember! (smiles), of its flavor and its I smell I am chimeras, I know.

Comments are closed.