Broken Humerus Recovery Time Of A New Born Baby

words of Ulysses in the wind

Who too. Who too little. From those too, who too little. I do not really, I do not understand me more 'and I do not understand. ... Strange but I'm happy.

And, as an incidental life. Hence I do Stratton, empty, fill, flood. It still amaze.
"You are like the sea, wave after another," they told me once. Not long ago when there was openness and sincerity '. One of those rare moments, before the inevitable end as expected.

Now that sea and 'in a storm. What no one will get close to or 'swallowed.

In the distance, things take a new form. Different. Some things. A form perhaps more 'beautiful. It does not take any effort to continue to hold on.

enough affection.

And women are more 'good at it. Women are more 'good to keep close. A hold on.
The friends, sisters, mothers.

Write. It is said to write in some cases. Words.
Yes, them. "Words make things that you can not say, carnal and similar, close and comforting."
But they can lie too. You can say and hear things that are the exact opposite of what 'we really feel. You can say, read and hear things that are so ridiculous, of place, inappropriate and disrespectful as to be comical. Tragically comic *.

So what to do? I

for now, I leave the wind.

Ps

Whether you without me, 'cause no one will be there you, for me.

But with the certainty that there is a bridge unshakable, indestructible, despite ourselves, despite what we do, where we are and with whom. Despite our deep holes, dark and twisted. As we have always been.
Storti. A
three of us. In what remains of the three of us. Of this "friendship."
Wind.

* you talk about you and your absurd request for 20 minutes. once a week for 3 weeks. grotesque.