I suppose it strange, can read people's thoughts. walking barefoot on the cold floor and unraveling dreams of clever books. She believes in love, or rather wants to believe. locks himself in the lock, then open the door. She psychopath and hysterical, often the very same wound himself He likes the sun, and happy, probably only on sunny days. In the evenings it warm with lemon tea and fellowship in icq, a splash of cold water on the face and help them to finally go to the bottom. She was not watching for days / weeks / calendar date, can not remember Ohm's law and read Paulo Coelho, writes its crazy random thoughts pencil anywhere, then their rhymes, again making sure that the stupid and unta
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