I wanted to know, still need desperately to know,
why Richard climbed into this flat last night.
Mr Desiato speaks to no one.
Ippolit Matveyevich hurried up to him.
#ilovespam, you know****
Mr Desiato speaks to no one.
Ippolit Matveyevich hurried up to him.
#ilovespam, you know****
posted by friederikes blog at 8:38 PM
6 Comments:
oh please tell me more about the guys...
wunderbar, endlich wieder ein neuer post von dir....
das ist mein beitrag zum spam:
"Immediately there is an explosion of music and the background music grows in intensity.
The Death of Rats skipped across the snow, slid down a drainpipe and landed on the roof of a shed."
ziemlich cooler spam eigentlich, oder?
Simon nodded, realising why De Richleau had touched him on the shoulder and confirming his suspicion.
ich weiß, ich weiß. lange nichts geschrieben. aber ohne internet zuhause geht das auch nicht...
wir könnten eine spam-kurzgeschichte starten. juhu
Seen. What you know is only manifest
Oh, I know. The snow. The effective snow
My soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,
Will hear the storm-blast of his clarion.
The edge of that other square cut from the right
With sun's warmth wasted on a stone,
Stunned in their voiceless way to be alive
What is there in the depths of these walls
But what I am looking at is hardened snow,
Lucky the bell—still full and deep of throat,
Given by nature will soak into it.
Everywhere, utterly.
High on this surface, guarding the edge of Père
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form
Toward the still dab of white that oscillates
I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering along
At San Biagio, in the most intense room
Silence, are in his hand—birds in a snare;
Dreaming time has reversed—and you,
sehr schön, sehr inspirierend!
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