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well ... thanks to my brand new ex-girlfriend , Leticia was angry with me anymore.

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The chick who served me breakfast today has a divine blue eyes, and also an air of Angelina Jolie

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why, when passing through the gate of a secondary school, the first thing that comes to mind are pendejas " teen " telling intimacies?

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There is no limit to the human capacity for hope. Whatever the actual status of what we want and wish beyond our tangible reality only if it is nature divine, completely unconditional, can be commensurate to the desire, the thirst for the infinite that overwhelms the heart and spurs.

And if by chance was definitely nothing that is on the other side, what to say in this case would in any case not be termed infinite, borderless, since its opacity with respect to being, its mutual untraceable, are absolute ... If not that prove precisely nothing small effervescence that stirred in the foam of being, the subject that emerges in fits and laboriously into existence. Heads and tails that inevitably turn their backs, but not beyond the knowledge or foreshadowing at least one possible both from the side of the existence, it is the military camp where our consciousness. I want unlimited

ours. Can only be fed and supported by the persistence of the self that does not require the bulwark of a spatiotemporal prison. In the persistence and experienced, if not in full knowability. Human food is divine, we can get him in our body size, even on a purely intuitive announced. Such is the communion, symbolically, the fact of acceptance of being as food support and awareness, mortal and strippable.

ambitions we want to inhabit a timeless drama, eternal. And in that expectation disordered in the flesh where Christianity is excessive Humanity projects fulfilled, the promise alive and present, tangible and always able to return at desire, when it seems already resigned inexorably doomed to dissatisfaction. The Christ is born, is present, dies, resurrects, returns and appears, ie live, persist, unending tour circuit in the hope of man. Other religions need a magnet inscrutable, distant, static, unchanging. Not have this urgent and unsettling ability to reflect human, wound thus embody the live time, bleeding and exhausted entirely at the peak of death, eternity and redoubled presence.

As the wounds of the passion, hollows revealed to be a disciple unbelievers fingers, and the silence, emptiness, the absence is as beyond childish and naive faith, or rather, built precisely on its foundations, as he said, leads again again and again, by the way of hope. Roto

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The Yankee with whom I share room (among others) I have the balls full : last night was a fart and we woke the remaining 3 quarts (two Canadian girls, and me). Now, I hope that the two new pibas there are good vibes

I also bought a USB numeric keypad for netbook fart, because now the old (which would not walk because the compu " not recognized") is serenaded walk again.

Today I went to visit a vineyard tour and had a re well, fortunately.

PD: This is a ditch. The picture was half bad, but it was with the cellular and my phone is not no big deal (so it has a definition of just 640 x 480 for photos)

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No ditches in Buenos Aires ... here if.

Here in the hostel is a chick that seems to Australian average dope was on a visit to a winery. Other pibas they are counting cursing laughing, heh = P

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blocking, the absurd
shell exile words
wrinkled
paperless, stateless,
ruminating on wetback
silence.
Tear the veils now, shake
suddenly
exile
midday sun and the earth tremble as breaking
cluster
to fill the mouth,

lip profiles ambitious
smooth, accurate
like hawks. Happy

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magical thing that

sometimes cause an orgasm outside can be as rewarding as having one.
The problem is that, for a woman, no way to tell if it is true that had one or not. So I'll just have to trust as I said my girlfriend.

But no, we did not. Only masturbated, and I must say is the second or third time I do that y. .. I loved it. I believe that he liked.

The mace is not that much more could be done, when my cuñadito in the other room.

Ah! What good is blogging in a long-distance micro! Oh, yeah!

Mendoza, here goes ...

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silence begs

silence forever:

inhabited space without limits,

shadow without shape or silhouette,
without word or thought.

hole and rested in its perfect identity

with sharp knife, however,
time.