tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33188663879368042732024-03-12T21:09:48.678-07:00it's my party and i'll cry if i want toporcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-64225294681310762502012-06-11T00:35:00.003-07:002012-06-11T00:37:06.799-07:00Faubourg Saint-Denis<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Parfois, la vie exige un changement. Une transition. Comme les saisons.
On a eu un printemps merveilleux, mais l'été est fini et nous avons
manqué l'automne. Tout d'un coup, il fait froid, si froid que tout se
met à geler. Notre amour s'est endormi, et la neige l'a pris par
surprise. Et si tu t'endors dans la neige, tu ne sens pas la mort venir.
Prends soin de toi.<br /><br />Francine... Je m'en souviens exactement<br />C'était le 15 mai<br />Le printemps tardait, la pluie menaçait<br />Et tu criais<br /><br />Et tu étais admise bien sûr<br />Tu as quitté Boston emménager à Paris<br />Un petit appartement dans la rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis<br />Je t'ai montré notre quartier, mes bars, mon école<br />Je t'ai présenté à mes amis, mes parents<br />J'ai écouté les textes que tu répétais<br />Tes chantes, tes espoirs, tes désirs, ta musique<br />Tu écoutais la mienne<br />Mon italien, mon allemand, mes bribes de russe<br />Je t'ai donné un walkman, tu m'as offert un oreiller<br />Et un jour, tu m'as embrassé<br /><br />Le temps passait, le temps filait<br />Et tout paraissait si facile, si simple, libre<br />Si nouveau et si unique<br />On allait au cinéma<br />On allait danser, faire des courses<br />On riait, tu pleurais<br />On nageait, on fumait, on se rasait<br />De temps à autre tu criais sans aucune raison<br />Ou avec raison parfois<br />Oui, avec raison parfois<br /><br />Je t'accompagnais au conservatoire<br />Je révisais mes examens<br />J'écoutais tes exercices de chant<br />Tes espoirs, tes désirs, ta musique<br />Tu écoutais la mienne<br />Nous étions proches, si proches, toujours plus proches<br />Nous allions au cinéma, nous allions nager<br />Rions ensemble, tu criais<br />Avec une raison parfois, et parfois sans<br />Le temps passait, le temps filait<br /><br />Je t'accompagnais au conservatoire<br />Je révisais mes examens<br />Tu m'écutais parler italien, allemand, russe, français<br />Je révisais mes examens<br />Tu criais, parfois avec raison<br />Le temps passait sans raison<br />Tu criais sans raison<br />Je révisais mes examens<br />Mes examens, mes examens, mes examens<br />Le temps passait<br />Tu criais, tu criais, tu criais<br /><br />J'allais au cinéma<br />Pardonne-moi, Francine</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Hello! I’m dying in here</span></i></div>
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<i>open up</i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">can anybody hear me?</span></i></div>
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<i>please</i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">let me go...</span></i></div>
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</div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-70026131788770370782012-06-05T21:08:00.002-07:002012-06-05T21:08:28.387-07:00fact<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>disaster//</b></i></div>
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</div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-54665603585672194282012-03-18T23:07:00.005-07:002012-03-18T23:08:17.354-07:00not another hipster in my bed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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be what you wanna be</div>
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rather be me than you</div>
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punch your random ego</div>
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maybe</div>
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or</div>
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better</div>
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<b><i>bye</i></b></div>
</div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-70747691596959908652012-03-16T19:09:00.003-07:002012-03-16T19:13:28.672-07:00you think i ain't worth a dollar but i feel like a millionaire<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">evil</span></div>
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means <span style="color: #d5a6bd; font-weight: bold;">live</span></div>
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reversed or not,</div>
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two words</div>
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one meaning..</div>
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<span style="font-style: italic;">hello world..</span></div>
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all i can do is <span style="color: white;">breathe</span>,</div>
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keep <span style="color: white;">breathing</span>..</div>
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<br /></div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-19841953030663918772011-09-15T18:13:00.000-07:002012-03-16T19:15:27.470-07:00the phrase is written when the phrase is created<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer,</b></div>
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<b>a sweetheart, a package of cigarettes, a candle and fell</b></div>
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<b>off the bed, and continued along the floor and down </b></div>
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<b>the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision </b></div>
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<b>of ultimate cunt and come eluding the gyzym </b></div>
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<b>of consciousness</b></div>
</div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-55821857788779732382011-07-10T01:45:00.000-07:002011-07-10T01:46:56.179-07:00not sad, just disappointed<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><b style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i>doctor said i,i'd be alright.</i></b> oh,everything that i believed,it wasn't true.i found it out when i got close to you.i thought you were different,like a dream.things they ain't never what they seem,whoa.thought i could trust you with my soul.but you can't do that anymore.<br />
<b style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i>the doctor said i'd be alright</i></b>,but i still feel blue.<b style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i>the doctor said i'd be alright</i></b>,but i still love you.love you,hate you...love you,want you,hate you...ah,yeah...<br />
i'm different.me myself,i'm different than all the rest.i can only speak for myself,but people can trust me. </span></span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">dedicated</span></span></h6>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-49963660288971287662011-07-07T09:11:00.001-07:002011-07-07T09:11:07.031-07:00passion<span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">I'm dead. No, that's too melodramatic. I'm not dead. But I live without self-respect. I know it sounds silly and pretentious. Most people live without self-esteem. Humiliated at heart, stifled, and spat upon. They're alive and that's all they know. They know of no alternative. Even if they did, they would never reach out for it. Can one be sick with humiliation? Is this a disease we have to live with? We talk so much about freedom. Isn't freedom a poison for the humiliated? Or is it merely a drug the humiliated use in order to endure? I can't live like this. I've given up. I can't stand it anymore. The days drag by. I'm choked by the food I swallow, the shit I get rid of, the words I say. The daylight screams at me every morning to get up. Sleep is only dreams that chase me. The darkness rustles with ghosts and memories. Has is ever occurred to you that the worse off people are, the less they complain? Finally, they're silent even if they're living creatures with nerves, eyes, and hands. Vast armies of victims and hangmen. The sun rises and falls, heavily. The cold approaches. The darkness. The heat. The smell. They're all silent. We can never leave. It's too late. Everything's too late.</span>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-76246794413900843912011-07-03T07:06:00.000-07:002011-07-03T07:07:37.178-07:00βροχος<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="color: #fce5cd;">Τώρα ποὺ σ᾿ ἔχω διαγράψει ἀπ᾿ τὴν καρδιά μου,</div><div style="color: #fce5cd;">ξαναγυρνᾷς ὅλο καὶ πιὸ πολὺ ἐπίμονα,</div><div style="color: #fce5cd;">ὅλο καὶ πιὸ πολὺ τυραννικά.</div><div style="color: #fce5cd;">Δὲν ἔχουν ἔλεος τὰ μάτια σου γιὰ μένα,</div><div style="color: #fce5cd;">δὲν ἔχουν τρυφερότητα τὰ λόγια σου,</div><div style="color: #fce5cd;">τὰ δάχτυλά σου ἔγιναν τώρα πιὸ σκληρά,</div><div style="color: #fce5cd;">ἔγιναν πιὸ κατάλληλα γιὰ τὸ λαιμό μου.</div><br />
Ντίνος Χριστιανόπουλος </div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-82394885218895986662011-06-27T15:12:00.000-07:002011-06-27T15:19:00.541-07:00you don't know what love is.. you just do as you're told<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CJDg508QbJE/Tgj6ezF1P8I/AAAAAAAAAIA/jt0wzIFeqok/s1600/Favim.com-7020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="152" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CJDg508QbJE/Tgj6ezF1P8I/AAAAAAAAAIA/jt0wzIFeqok/s320/Favim.com-7020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: #f4cccc; text-align: center;"> Λευκό χαρτί είμαι</div><div style="color: #f4cccc; text-align: center;">για να ρίξεις τη μαύρη σου κηλίδα</div><div style="color: #f4cccc; text-align: center;">σε σβήνω<br />
μα εσύ επίμονος λεκές<br />
τη μια μου ζωγραφίζεις τα όνειρα<br />
την άλλη μαύρες τρυπες. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #f4cccc;">Αν ήμουν χρώμα</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #f4cccc;"> στ' ορκίζομαι </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #f4cccc;">θα ήμουν <span style="color: red; font-size: large;">κόκκινο</span> της φωτιάς.</span></span></div></div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-49081740848296455132011-06-25T13:00:00.000-07:002012-03-16T18:52:43.401-07:00what you GET is what you SEE-K<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #ffd966;">make me a child</span> <span style="color: #d5a6bd; font-size: large;">again</span></div>
</div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-64784677549075648982011-06-24T13:01:00.000-07:002011-06-24T13:01:02.025-07:00έγινε η απώλεια συνήθειά μας<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J7GfREMzVo4/TgTsx2N4UQI/AAAAAAAAAH4/drQWOTQSwlU/s1600/eliXile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J7GfREMzVo4/TgTsx2N4UQI/AAAAAAAAAH4/drQWOTQSwlU/s320/eliXile.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: white; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;">Εφιάλτης. </span></span></div><div style="color: white; text-align: center;">Η ζωή δεν είναι εκεί σου λέω. </div><div style="color: white; text-align: center;">Μόνο, σε παρακαλώ έλα.. </div><div style="color: white; text-align: center;">Όσος καιρός μας απομένει ακόμα.. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white;">Γιατί κανένα παραμύθι δε με προετοίμασε γι'αυτό;</span></div></div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-20361207966664190122011-06-23T07:35:00.000-07:002011-06-23T07:35:03.468-07:00she lost control. again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="color: #f4cccc;">Ξαφνικά όμως.. Ένιωσα κάποιον να μου κλέβει το οξυγόνο..</div><div style="color: #f4cccc;">Ήταν ο χρόνος..</div><div style="color: #f4cccc;">Δεν υπάρχει πια καιρός για παραμύθια και ρομαντισμούς..</div><div style="color: #f4cccc;">Τικ τακ τικ τακ..</div><div style="color: #f4cccc;">Γρήγορες σχέσεις..</div><div style="color: #f4cccc;">Γρήγοροι χωρισμοί..</div><div style="color: #f4cccc;">''Άντε να τελειώνουμε..''</div><div style="color: #f4cccc;">Μερικές φορές είναι καλύτερα να μένεις εκτός..</div><span style="color: #f4cccc;">Να βλέπεις χρώμα στους γκρίζους ανθρώπους, στα γκρίζα λόγια..</span></div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-66572725623491035502011-06-22T23:18:00.000-07:002011-06-22T23:18:35.060-07:00τόσο πολύ σας διασκεδάζει ο ρόγχος μου;<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/p8Og3M8bscM?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<div style="color: #660000; text-align: center;">μήπως έγινα βαρετή </div><div style="color: #660000; text-align: center;">τώρα που δραπέτευσε το όνειρο;</div></div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-74277770759041146062011-06-21T18:24:00.000-07:002011-06-21T18:40:43.625-07:00there is a light... that never goes out<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="color: #f9cb9c;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Lb_9Vy_gWg/TgFG7lCzGcI/AAAAAAAAAH0/IIER9dT_9M4/s1600/tumblr_ljkx7yyKUd1qe8vgro1_500_thumb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Lb_9Vy_gWg/TgFG7lCzGcI/AAAAAAAAAH0/IIER9dT_9M4/s1600/tumblr_ljkx7yyKUd1qe8vgro1_500_thumb.jpg" /></a></div><div style="color: #ffe599; text-align: center;">δε με νοιάζει, σου λέω αλήθεια</div></div><div style="color: #ffe599; text-align: center;">δε μου τη δίνει να μη σε βρίσκω</div><div style="color: #ffe599; text-align: center;">μου τη δίνει να σε ψάχνω</div><div style="color: #ffe599; text-align: center;"><i>όταν τα χέρια μου σε χάνουν </i></div><div style="color: #ffe599; text-align: center;"><i>η πονεμένη φαντασία μου σε κερδίζει</i></div><div style="color: #ffe599; text-align: center;">διάολε</div></div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-86872650758902534802011-06-20T14:17:00.000-07:002011-06-20T14:17:16.731-07:00i want revenge. i think so<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="style1"><span style="font-family: Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="color: #ea9999;">Ο ΑΜ έχει νικήσει απλά. Έχει πάρει την εκδίκησή του.</div><div style="color: #ea9999;">Δεν έχω στόμα. Και <u>πρέπει</u> να ουρλιάξω.</div></div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-58021562152164994302011-06-19T20:59:00.000-07:002012-08-15T17:23:29.415-07:00you never see the lonely me at all<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My mind say stop, my heart say go</div>
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My heart say kill, my mind say no</div>
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I don’t know, which way should I choose?</div>
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<br /></div>
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I got a heart, I got a mind</div>
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But I can’t keep them in time</div>
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ουφ.</div>
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porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-62683176088848513632011-06-19T20:35:00.000-07:002011-06-19T21:02:26.727-07:00φτηνά τσιγάρα<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Θα ήθελα τόσο πολύ να σε εντυπωσιάσω. Η ζωή μας ήταν ξαφνική και σύντομη σαν μια μπόρα... Ούτε που πρόλαβα να αρχίσω. Ούτε που πρόλαβα να σου πω τη μοναδική μου ιδιότητα. Είμαι συλλέκτης... Μαζέυω το πιο σκληρό και άγριο πράγμα του κόσμου, στιγμές. Όταν έχω αυτό τον ξαφνικό πόθο να πετάξω, και δεν έχω που να πετάξω, κρύβομαι στη συλλογή μου, γεμάτη καφέδες, μποξέρ, χορευτές, τυχαία εγκλήματα, βρισιές, τρυφερούς παρανόμους, στοές, συναντήσεις, κραυγές, σιωπές, χωρισμούς, λόγια, λόγια, λόγια. Έτσι κι αλλιώς τα πράγματα θα κυλήσουν όπως θέλουν αυτά. Η ζωή ξέρει κι εγώ την εμπιστεύομαι. Είμαι απ' αυτούς που πάντα κάπνιζαν φτηνά τσιγάρα.</div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3318866387936804273.post-86499765896173688022011-06-18T19:52:00.000-07:002011-06-19T21:01:54.612-07:00ασυνάρτητα<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Το μόνο που θέλω, εκτός από το να πάω διακοπές, να αγοράσω καινούριο σαμπουάν και τσάι λεμόνι, να βρω ΧΡΟΝΟ να δω τους φίλους μου, να παίξω πιάνο, να κάνω τα ωραία μου κολλάζ, να γίνει ΤΩΡΑ 13 αυγούστου και να πετάω για berlin(!), να πάρω τηλέφωνο όλους όσους δεν πήρα τα τελευταία δύο χρόνια-και είναι πολλοί πίστεψε με, να ακούσω waits μέχρι να κουφαθώ, να πιω ένα daiquiri μπανάνα, να τελειώσει η κωλοεξεταστική, να δω live τις cocorosie, να δω τη ν, να βρω 300 ευρώ στο δρόμο, να πιω γκαζόζα γεράνι, να βρω ένα μαγαζί με ΤΕΛΕΙΑ πάμφθηνα ρούχα second-hand, είναι να είμαι μαζί σου.</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Τελικά μάλλον φταίει το ότι δεν είμαι προσηλωμένη στο στόχο μου.</span></div>porcelainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02866994120840596897noreply@blogger.com0