The borders of France is broken, the hero moves only, but in front of her was empty. No enemy to defeat, no battles to be won. The fight is with themselves, for some. Ideally, move the steps, cause to be alone, feel alone, not alone. France is metamorphosed. E 'bionic creature in evolution, a shapeshifter. No war to win, no enemy to defeat, only the power of the ideals that guide the hero with slow steps against the void. It is not averted. There is no contrast. No alliance. Only peace silent footsteps of the horse sinking in wet mud. Come to think of Do not think this mud shit? Shit, maybe yes. La Franca, however, the stench, the stench of foul-smelling and slippery magma does not care, because it rises and when it wants, it can give a shot of reins and run away from the swamp. Then the horse will turn into unicorns and will be able to understand that the enemy can not see why on the earth in the form of other living species.
return to us. Brianza, January 9, 2011. Ore 10.38. I'd feel more comfortable if I got pregnant as a teenager, like Juno. I would feel more comfortable in the superhero series Misfits as unlucky. I'd feel more at home in Baltimore, find their way into the team of Lt. Cedric Daniels, or pages of Crime and Punishment when Raskolnikov and Sonia read the Gospel. I feel more comfortable in the silence of a church, in front of a fireplace, under the covers, along with a book. I'd feel more comfortable in. But this does not mean it is not well. I'm fine. But the borders with France and broken. It's no going back.
That has opened the era of freedom? That truth, of course, my re (g) wings heroines. The ranks are broken. But it is time for peace. Armies can reform itself, a new era is coming. An age unknown, but more profoundly significant.
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