Moust Besutiful Woman In Girdles

Winter Music

Carol explains to Max before, long ago, they had him and all his friends, major construction projects. They wanted to build this and that, and nothing would do them harm ... and then one day, without them realizing it, their teeth fell out.
Maybe it was too late for construction. The weather did not expect, or they believed in its power.
Winter is coming soon and then it will be spring. Concern. Being a child at this very hour and time will pass, it will be over soon, it will be good for others, those 6 years. So we must wait for the bus and go up. We can only return and watch what you leave behind. Do not worry, others say, those that are mounted before, years ago. It does not last long. It does not hurt.
It does not last very long, it's true. This small moment is the ride melancholy beings torn world, the world which they were kings. They have to give up the crown to another, the successor, the one that said goodbye to his joyous smile, they still hate the successor to the first. Grow up and understand that this is not always the fault of others. And that's the most painful, this little tip in the heart, and love which is guilty, realizing suddenly that can hurt and can no longer really care. It's not before, we did not like. But that's not the same.
Wondering why the Mother looks at her with a little look so sad. Because you grow, my child. And you change. Nothing more, yet this change makes me vomit. Grow up you will remember, perhaps, to build what you wanted to build when you were king. You had ideas, imagination, and you did not care the time, do you care what others said, those who you said it was impossible. Above all, I could not rock you. The child becomes an adult loved one that is feared.
Keep the monster within himself and screaming with rage because you're angry, crying bitterly because we are sad, it hurt to laugh because we are happy, the eyes also in vacuum, or closed because they thought, or that we daydream, if ever bite the other upset, break the camel's back because we no longer know the words to say.
Some say it is no longer. It should be reasonable now.
With this child with this monster, to write the novel, then burn the pages, build the castle and destroy it, kicking his feet in the mound of earth and rebuild it.
Destroy, Rebuild. Say that it could be better and pay attention to you, This means that you are depressed. Build, destroy and rebuild. Weaving secrets.
We know that the ride takes longer than what others would have us believe. The stupidity of some is to believe that they are adults, this condition does not exist. The strength of others is to be sponge and flame. To be on the verge of explosion, always. The bus, they took it. Except at the last moment, laughing, flying the driver's seat, they changed direction. The adults try to play, but there is much left to burn. There is a small opening in the heart, and everything ran them through the tiny opening. They expect without dreaming. And if others are waiting too, they dream the same time. They play and burn and burn. Moreover, they prefer to burn rather than wait too long. Some prefer the sadness of infertility. Some prefer the suicide disease. Time itself, can not wait. Time is a creditor. It will hurt, and no need to have 40 or 50 years to know there will always be evil, and we will need many things to fill the gaps, and sometimes we will need more than desire, and then we die, and then it is.
And since now we know, they cry, reopening the wounds with great blows of scissors, knife, scalpel.
Gale. The first word. Cry and you will create a world irrigated with our blood. Pain rather than drying. The world narrowed to our excesses, though small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. It gets the crown.
king of a tiny kingdom trembling, a dusty attic, a lonely island larger, broader, more terrible, more intense than all the continents combined.

Brain Polyps And Sinuses

Who Will Survive And What Will Be Left Of Them? Black Jewel

In 1883, the territory of Colorado, Alfred Packer was sentenced to death.
He was not hanged but finally spent some time in jail. It was an old man when he emerged.


Alfred Packer was a Union soldier. We thanked him quickly, because of epilepsy. A soldier who became a guide beautiful winter day. In 1874, he had to take him to Utah to Colorado 21 minors. But nobody knew he was not well endowed. No one suspected he might be bragging.
Packer and the 21 miners were lost in a snowstorm, saw their food away in a river while trying to cross it, met the Chief Ouray of the Ute tribe, friend of white men , who offered them hospitality.
And Packer wants, really, to return Colorado. Five of his companions also. They want to hit the road, despite warnings from the Indian chief. The Rockies are dangerous nature, this time of year is unfair.

Chief Ouray and his wife Chipeta .

Packer was accompanied by Shannon Wilson Bell, a strapping red-haired, James Humphreys, who had $ 133 in his pocket, Frank "Reddy" Miller, redhead, too, also nicknamed the "Butcher" no one knows that s' it was actually George "California" Noon, a frail young boy of 18 years and Israel Swan, aged 65. From them, we do not know much. They were small and had a thirst for gold.
This gold, he expected them. For this reason, alone, did they dare cross the Rockies. They took the road, their backpack. The dream is so close, the future promises wonders.
The first to die was the Dean Swan.
He died of cold, hunger, fatigue. The others stayed a few minutes near his corpse, a pearl on the eyelashes can be, but often prevents the cold to cry. They stood there looking at it, the saliva on his lips as was the rage. Something
end in the stomach in stomach. And the frozen corpse reminds the body of the animal that was hunted.
There may be one that has thrown the idea in the air like that, without really thinking. And maybe it was Miller who took the knife that was used to cut the meat frozen, this may be why it was nicknamed the butcher. Regardless of whether Swan was human, and he was their companion. When you become a wolf in the forest, only hunger that has twisted her stomach. All thoughts abolished, but pain in the womb, the entrails demanding their due.
And then four or five days later, Humphreys died in turn. The $ 133 in his pocket, they would no longer serve him much. Packer then borrowed them.
And then they ate it, too.
And then came the turn of the Butcher Miller of German origin. Packer said there was an incident when he had left to hunt. He was never able to tell what really happened to the butcher. He came back he was dead. One incident, that's all. Noon Bell or targeted animal and hit the man, perhaps.
Then they ate it, too. Packer replied
hunt. Long. When he returns, he discovers the corpse of the young George. A bullet in the body, that Bell shot at close range with gun Swan. Packer, mumbles, does not require explanation. He's hungry, that's all he knows.
a ravenous bear, a hungry inhumane.
Then they eat it, too.
But Bell still hungry. He has an ax in his hands and his gaze is fixed on Packer. Packer fired first. Self-defense. It was him or Bell. Packer still has enough strength to choose, and Bell is mad, mad with hunger, mad at all. It was perhaps more fragile than California.
All this is true. The simple truth, "he says.
Help me, my God, but everything is true .
The Dead Man's Gulch. The place where Packer called feasted well.
A reporter on a mission stop at the scene, armed with white sheets and crayons. He sits down and draws five bodies, that the cold has frozen, the animals have eaten. The bodies bear the marks of an ax. Missing head of one of them. Presumably it is Frank Miller. The breast of one was cut at the other, it lacks some of the calf. Some seem to have been beaten.



Packer's tale is blood on the snow and cries of the man who is blind.
And one or two lies. Alfred
not even know her name. An error on the paper, an error on a tattoo and Alfred Alferd becomes. Packer back in Colorado. He does not know how he really did. He did not even return for coming back alive from this hell. Nobody asks him questions, then he is silent. It foams and bars without the laughter he gave a March evening, nobody would ever have known. Frenchy Cabazon is a former group member, who recognized that laugh in this saloon. He was surprised that others are not there to drink and laugh, too.

Alfred looks healthy, but it feels tired. All he seeks is the whiskey. He does not want to eat. All he wants is the whiskey, and he has the wherewithal to pay. Alfred
a thousand versions to tell. First, his companions were abandoned because he had injured his leg. But let him rummage through his memory, and he will tell you that Bell killed everyone. Him, he ate because he was hungry, and he who has never suffered from hunger does not know his happiness. He was hungry, he ate, the law of nature is as simple as that. Imagine the hunger, imagine the cold, imagine the emptiness and your bowels harden.
Nobody believes it, but Polly Pry and Trey Parker, but that's another story.
Polly is famous throughout Colorado. Acerbic pen and paper controversial. Polly has done much research. Thieves and murderers would be released. Why not a cannibal? She thought the say, clams, even small sellers of newspapers that are at his door, everybody cares. He is guilty. Otherwise, it would be the sixth corpse. Otherwise, he would not escape during his first arrest. One judge for the murder of Israel Swan. In 1883 he will be accused of murdering her five companions in misfortune. There is so much to put him on the back, "said the judge, and God takes pity on him.


And then there is an example.
In this year 1883, two cases of cannibalism are known, outside the territory. Packer will be the example, the wild card drawn at random. He will be hanged until death ensued. Polly stirred paper under the nose of the accusers. Do not forget he was a soldier.
Whether Packer thanked Polly Pry.
He will go to jail. He stayed 20 years. 20 years to perform the same rituals. He became a vegetarian. Goalkeeper Hoyt says he never had any problems with him. And every attempt to release, Alfred says, whenever he is innocent. He has eaten, yes, and besides, he never got hidden. But he never killed. And ghosts, those who died, those who are in him now, forgive him. They would have done the same thing.
One day in 1901, he sees for the first time the American sun, hand over his eyes, he hears the laughter and shouting in the streets. There will be three months at Polly Pry. But it does not stay. He hates Denver. He knows nothing of city life. He wants the freedom of the hills.
is in the streets of Littleton that the soldier Packer ages. People whisper, on his way. This is the man who killed and ate his companions? It's strange, it is so nice! He
children sit on his lap and tell them about the Great West. The Old West.
A real adventure, kids. Consider your lucky you are warm, sheltered, you're not hungry. And when it snows, it's important. Sounds acquired. Never be sure of nothing. Hunger, she cares. She will not ask your opinion, it will not ask you if this is acceptable, good or normal.
All that, and the rhetoric is the wind, nothing, when you're hungry.

*** A must-see musical comedy and horror, a little swath (for which I have immense affection) Trey Parker, one of the fathers of dirty kids South Park ; Cannibal! The Musical. Pearl impudence and humor idiot who will remind everyone that building a snowman can be fatal.

Birthday Card For 18 Year Old

Se dream as the Countess Castiglione, Virginia, who was anything but natural. Be
permanent representation in the mirror and worry, when the first wrinkles appear.



This was the experience the beautiful countess, a cold November morning, and that's what makes him the desire to break all the mirrors in her apartment.
Whether these mirrors were lovers gifts, gifts of friendship, offering to its beauty, offering price paid. The countess was all broken, with his heels and punched. He had to break this reflection was no longer hers, since these wrinkles, they do not belong to him. The marble and alabaster do not bask. These mirrors, we do not cross, they are merely a reflection of reality cruel and cold as November. They sometimes reveal more than we wanted. They reveal the fear and its attendant despair. She goes out at night to avoid being seen, not to present the forfeiture that is hers, she shone Dame de Coeur in the balls. Marble is eternal. A rose does not fade.


A rose does not fade, but there's still fun to see it fade. Fun
fierce. The pleasure of not having power, because this is something stronger than us, and it's time that passes, and since she knows now, as surrendering behind black curtains and rose petals that creak under the heel. The countess uttered a loud laugh and his hands, blood flowing from his wounds, they reopened it and started breaking the reflection, one that fades before the mirror, but not before the camera. Him, he flies. She raises her eyes hard on the goal and he will remember his eyes, and he will also remember it was beautiful and wanted. And the countess never flees if it desires. Besides, she prefers to leave rather than being unwanted. And loved.
The Countess is hiding and reveals.
And now, she will be artist. A whim, a sudden urge. The countess has always been temperamental. These photographs will be in his grave over the new playground, and then, she has no fear, because there is no difference. It will be more beautiful than ever, more beautiful even than when she was moving, it will Recalled frozen, it will be inquisitive eye, scrutinizing those who scrutinize it will be beautiful and old, proud in suffering, hidden, and tell the truth of her body and soul, and it will be the widow of her beauty, she is the widow of all young men and beautiful young men who were in love with her one day.


The countess is on the other side, and she chose herself to go. Nobody forced them, and it is anyway too rebellious to obey anyone. Solitaire forever, it digs its delicate hands earth. Nature does not like it, and never loved. That's why she was never natural but always lush and fragrant, corseted and playful. Of illusion, and that's it. It sets the goal. She fixed it remembers how much she is alive, how she is sad, and she does not care if others say it is a disease to be as sad. It never forget.
She knows that Death will pick the one morning in November.
Too bad.
All is vain, except love, and pride of a aged look and burning, never printed in the retina of the other, other. No one will forget. Mother Pain wrapped in her shawl to forget the cold.
the turning of a corridor, we will not see more than his robe. She dresses in black to be ahead.