If freckles were lovely...
Thursday, 18 November 2010
17:13
Branco, cinza, bege, sardas.
Vi ele hoje.

Não vou reproduzir o poema, porque seria de novo, já que eu já postei ele aqui no começo do ano.

Mas diversos parágrafos esfacelados, mas casi casi inteiros de O Diário de um Sedutor dedicados a ele.

E nada de fotos de freckles, porque nenhuma seria como as sardas que vi.

Information

Here is where I'm free. Free to write, free to think. I'm all by myself, all to myself. Only me.­­ ­I can shout my fucks and cry my Oh Gods. Look to my madness or say "who are you?" Today, I fell connected. Tomorrow, maybe not. Maybe I'm too worried with other things, someone is here with me. Maybe inspiration didn't hit me. My most important thoughts (to me) come to me when I'm far away from notepads and notebooks, but close to myself. That's what this is made of.
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About
We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and -- in spite of True Romance magazines -- we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely -- at least, not all the time -- but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don't see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness. — Hunter S. Thompson

the months passed by...

Credits
(This awesome layout isn't mine. I got if from CREATE BLOG, and made my adjustments.) ------ Layout: tuesdaynight
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