soon began to write these Fill the right time he needed to get home, take off your coat and sit in front of that Olivetti shabby, with its jubialadas keys, so often had alleviated the loneliness that has engulfed his soul. Came concerned in this shared flat in which two students lived too mediocre and shabby for the effects of hashish. Perhaps it was this cloud dusty and smelling like incense that made his words charge a human sense, deeper, more visceral. In short, more real. It was only nine when he got home but due to calendar dates - mid-February could mean that midnight had seized the city. Briskly crossed the central room of the house, a shabby room in which he shared with infrahombres units were one of those nauseating programs that plague the daily program.
He sat in that chair threadbare carpet by the passage of time and which had a foul smell disappeared only when the sense of smell admitted as an escort. It took work spinning the first few sentences but once he found the key to run out. He wrote about life, love and misunderstanding but was never happy with what she recounted. I thought that the words did not conform to reality or, worse, he was unable to find the desired words to express what your heart meant. Thus was born his frustration evident, of wanting to be a writer and do not have enough inner strength to get it. He was aware that he had plenty in the following order: ambition, talent and knowledge but knew that he lacked the most important for success: a chance. Had been circulated by various publishers several of his creations but the answer was always negative. Praised his imagination but reproached him in a letter devoid of personality, "his lyrics were too poignant and demand of the reader were written that did not cause crying." Every time I got one of those colorful letters on letterhead, that came his way after going through the both of his fellow prisoners, are demonized and invoked the devil take those inept that they had failed their works.
"Two rows crossed the cheeks of a melancholy face for the suffering. If there is the possibility of joining them, surely the result would have been similar to the two halves of a broken glass a stone's throw away. On his forehead, the wrinkles were the ravages caused by the eternal weeping and life imprisonment. However, his spirit was as strong as an old oak tree whose bark is tanned by the passage of the sunrises and sunsets. So was she, a woman of fragile and fleeting smile but a strong and overwhelming ... "
He sat in that chair threadbare carpet by the passage of time and which had a foul smell disappeared only when the sense of smell admitted as an escort. It took work spinning the first few sentences but once he found the key to run out. He wrote about life, love and misunderstanding but was never happy with what she recounted. I thought that the words did not conform to reality or, worse, he was unable to find the desired words to express what your heart meant. Thus was born his frustration evident, of wanting to be a writer and do not have enough inner strength to get it. He was aware that he had plenty in the following order: ambition, talent and knowledge but knew that he lacked the most important for success: a chance. Had been circulated by various publishers several of his creations but the answer was always negative. Praised his imagination but reproached him in a letter devoid of personality, "his lyrics were too poignant and demand of the reader were written that did not cause crying." Every time I got one of those colorful letters on letterhead, that came his way after going through the both of his fellow prisoners, are demonized and invoked the devil take those inept that they had failed their works.
"Two rows crossed the cheeks of a melancholy face for the suffering. If there is the possibility of joining them, surely the result would have been similar to the two halves of a broken glass a stone's throw away. On his forehead, the wrinkles were the ravages caused by the eternal weeping and life imprisonment. However, his spirit was as strong as an old oak tree whose bark is tanned by the passage of the sunrises and sunsets. So was she, a woman of fragile and fleeting smile but a strong and overwhelming ... "
