NO ORACLE - Logia ONE
I prefer the tide his hat in the wind I let him drive - can stay on someone else's head? Just to let the universe have no access to his brain!
hypothermia and cold wax - think about it.
surrounds me In the evening the breeze of a song, a sinister reputation from the hells scourged souls, gurgle in the allotments and pastures to the private possession a hymn to the shoot. My neighbors.
I hear the day in the woods - he is hiding. Whose everlasting night we manage here?
collapse! That to me screams against the pleasure garden of the time manager. Collapse! And everybody gets a share.
pulling at my ear, scalp my tongue: you will see Daedalus, who watches the movement of air, mad about the fact that his brilliant mind fateful matter has fallen prey to. Think of your sons!
Where are they, the great warrior? Heroes, the eggs shaved, so they run in the shadow of the great Mystikums. Computerized, searchable images of gods, heroes of the reporting. The age of warrior is different - the shaman determines the tides.
In which river will get you? There are two. One will carry more water, the other from and browned.
analog cheese is a metaphor.
Who owns the Zeitgeist? Time? Does the spirit of the time? There is only a vague idea of the Zeitgeist, a corpse, a Dinner For One of the last stuffiness - for a corset rancid fat from versafteten brains.
TWO
Who do you love? Mystics. Playmates, catch your eyes in the discarded dances.
up Give them out iambic rhythms - Heraclitean fire in your muscles. There's sweat on your legs: your power.
As directed everywhere? With words and formulas? With flesh and soot? In information networks, social closets? Is ruled and directed in the sphere that you perceive only when you look in silence clip in the air hole that swallows up behind your veiled glance everything.
a universe, a womb of a woman, a bloodstream - cosmic sizes.
I walk in a swamp, from the thicket beckons me a siren. A typical Saturday night. I throw myself into the mud. He dried up in me, and breaks off. The siren me laughing good-bye.
synapses are like stars; transient continuity, mortal nothingness. Misunderstood importance misunderstood insignificance.
Did you see sirens dance ever? No, the song is her specialty. The truth of the siren is the vibration that gives her body the sky: no dissonance. A thought without Flaw - Lovely mechanics.
THREE
Espiriden stolen the apples - I'm bound to leave the summit.
The Atlas is an idol. But do not, you could find you in his fate.
The cooled mantra of the disgraced: What do you want to do?
the last sentence: I am mortal.
This cap was created for my own idea and has some French in Charme.Gestrickt Merino . 
This hat is a slight modification the same as the white above but in a thinner yarn quality in Merino this year and the very important Pommel . 
My Bookshelf has also now received appreciation. 
If women's needs has I try to knit socks this way. 
My child has just now on her hair. She finds it cool 
Now she is a cheeky Girls through. 
