Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Slatted doors kitchen garden trading company ajar. Inside: a wooden bowl with apples, oranges and k


From one extreme to another floor, twelve steps caged beast. Parquet, garden trading company cork, forging window, three limestone sill, black and white towel with fringe hanging from the door, sofa bed and fold in half, on the curtain fell when I tried descórrer of it. Meanwhile, Jose Gonzalez me repeating "do not let the darkness eat you up." A Fagor unplugged heater, Camper shoes, Tommy Hilfiger garden trading company shoes, espadrilles fabric Esparto soled, black folding chair from Ikea, a swimming cap Arena, blue, though sealed, a pair of Speedo swimming spectacular sealed, card game Hillary for president, seal shirt Made in NY, taped, folded ironing board, a shelf full of books aluminum wheels. Heart looking so white; I am convinced that there must be, but can not find it. Who Am I lame, Bohumil Hrabal from: communism, politics, many outwardly. I'm about to re-save when the first page, two cuts down on uneven yellow, with love poems written letter girl, dated December 1999 and signed garden trading company "I love you, Mary" . The world keeps putting me to the test, or maybe it's just what we see, somehow, because we carry within. A collage of my photographs hanging on the wall over a wide-angle photograph of the Berlin Wall, a bag of cardboard Rolf und Franz Kohr, Stuttgart, and inside, a wooden Santa Claus with a Tassel cotton hat. A Dutch poster for "The cucina dell'arte", a Hi-fi Philips' Incredible Sorround "two halves of coconut shell grips and placed face down on a pile of CDs: Mika, Violadores del Verso, Scissor Sisters, garden trading company Kula Shaker, Blue Man Group; cheers eclecticism. A driving license expired recently with a photo of the old Dd. When we were young. Two photos of Dd, covered with glass: garden trading company in one, sitting on a plastic chair outdoor, topless, thick beard, cigarette in hand; on the other, lush beard, straw hat, camera and let me look at me. 3D cardboard glasses: plastic green, garden trading company red plastic. I wear them and look at the sky through the window: a sky of nuclear war, acid rain, excess psychotropic. garden trading company
The door opened to the dining room, a bar with metal screws hidden lace two floors. On Sony TV, a note from the cleaning lady ("Hi David, I tended dejado sheets. Goodbye"), written in a block of hotel Le Meurice, Paris, 228 rue de Rivoli. Curtains closed stove on, a bottle of Old Source practically empty land, a poster of "A Bronx Tale" (with a picture of Chaz Palminteri) placed on a chair, a photograph of Marilyn on stage at the outdoors, in front of a military audience. I sat on the couch brown leather writing these letters with laptop on knees, squinting too lazy to remove the glasses from the bag.
Hall dark window Celobert Barcelona: hanging garden trading company clothes (rags white and blue), a Motxo scrubbing, peeling paint without poetry brick wall full of shade, a vent in the form of alliances, bad wires hanging. Inside: American film about the electricity meter, jackets and anoraks behind the door, a colorful scarf, an umbrella, garden trading company a mannequin with old red and white, another poster, different from "The cucina dell'arte" . Ring the bell, down. Call back. Give up eventually. garden trading company
The spare room: four bare walls painted salmon, three empty bags with labels tickets: Delta Airlines, JFK, AirFrance, Paris; ronyosos old and two pillows, a lamp pink paper in a corner off a plastic Spiderman garden trading company bulb, cold holes tacos one day they hold pictures, shelves, traces of people garden trading company who lived other lives and one day they decided to change it. Because we always leave traces.
Slatted doors kitchen garden trading company ajar. Inside: a wooden bowl with apples, oranges and kiwis. Mop, broom, washing empty. Plate rack, empty. Pica empty. Refrigerator, rather than empty, worthy of declared disaster area: tomatoes wither, ready to breed or mutated hair, one can with canned mushroom soup, a jar of Dijon mustard, a bottle of ketchup, half a dozen eggs to start, expired two months ago, a pottery bowl empty; at the door, two cartons of milk, a bottle of champagne Bach to open a small star, a nearly empty bottle of Lambrusco, cream, more eggs, grated Parmesan. Enough. On the outside, magnets Metropolis of Hair, Broadway, and another magnet which holds them

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