Winter is not coming, Florian Dre Wood splits into two, three, five, and even many parts. I look up

Winter is not coming, Florian Dre Wood splits into two, three, five, and even many parts. I look up to the fence and through her mesh look around, and no one sees what I chops firewood. No firewood there, and boards, wet, fresh, sawmill work remains. But when susikapoju to narrow sticks, I can burn and cease to feel the burning debris. Originally I run to check the color of smoke curls from the chimney. It has always been good, whitish, like Santa Claus beard. It means the timber so good. At the moment when the wood decays, I like to think most of the birds that never does not settle my poorly-built nesting boxes and about in the winter. But at about the time of year, and about some next winter, which lies on me, as a kind of cheese is pressed, and I can only move his hands and mind. It seems that all this negative, but in winter I like this we are talking about and can come in the spring, and at any other time. Untitled, Alison Scarpulla creaking shoes neegzsistuoja romance, even though all of her writing and language. It is only after you snow Mala foot in short you become some sort of Godzilla destroying lam kim chi something very nice for yourself underfoot. Absurd, but the snow kingdom, which Myza dogs, thrown cigarette butts and sukasam terrible uniform orange snow shovels, I believe, within beautiful. Like a hermitage, right? Imagine lam kim chi yourself going and underfoot mali de Morales, Rubens, lam kim chi Breigelį lam kim chi younger, Ribera and others. I'm not saying it's good or bad, but sometimes I like to think what would be the sense of all this and just disregard chiselled ugly orange shovel. Ah, dissolved, and in the meantime will angle for dogs pamyžt. Maybe the kind of dream you have to try ... Untitled, Autumn Taylor, but in winter and fire are the two things go hand in hand. This winter, even though it was very modest, Kiev winter lam kim chi ended quite beautiful in the spring, and with fire. As long wooden sticks to burn, I like staring at how beautiful yellow sliver becomes the sparkling red needle, and finally drops and remains in the ashes. And if the needle is lucky, it becomes coal. Like coal to be better than Cinderella ... Charcoal can heat and Cinderella just very aesthetically appealing. Can lie, glide, be crushed to dust. I do not know what is better. But before burning, I like to KAISTANA red face and an inability to draw near. Always remember St. John, when the fire appears transparent and all dancing around it, through it, to her, like what Pilėnai, but never burn. Only the heat is never enough for me, or at least so I repeat myself, because lam kim chi just received the chance to burn sticks, I take them to charge, charge, charge, almost hysterically, I take to feel strange, because there does not fit all, and burn, and I want more. Then also hysterically I am looking forward to stare at it, as occurs ash and coal, and thinking better. When I get tired of waiting, returning to the field, and lift your eyes through the grid, look around, and no one sees what I chops firewood. The garden is lit, Simas Šuminskas
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