The Waste Land
How struggling escaped from my arms and flew to meet him! I stood looking at the broken heart
. But she barely gave her hand, scarcely had launched into his arms, when suddenly
turned back to me ran me like a gust of wind, like a lightning
, and before I knew it, I walked around the neck with his arms and kissed me hard,
ardently. Then, without saying a word, ran back to him and took his hand and dragged him behind. I stayed a long time where I was following them with his eyes. Finally out of sight.
White Nights. Dostoyevsky
teenage This thing is getting out of hand
Absolute Beginners. Colin MacInnes
. But she barely gave her hand, scarcely had launched into his arms, when suddenly
turned back to me ran me like a gust of wind, like a lightning
, and before I knew it, I walked around the neck with his arms and kissed me hard,
ardently. Then, without saying a word, ran back to him and took his hand and dragged him behind. I stayed a long time where I was following them with his eyes. Finally out of sight.
White Nights. Dostoyevsky
teenage This thing is getting out of hand
Absolute Beginners. Colin MacInnes
White Nights. Hampstead Heath, there was. His eyes ac Erta ban to pursue a more dismounted, his eyes tumble between paragraphs, vacuum, vacuum. Entrelíneas a shudder. I thought of books without reading them, bought them. His spirit a fog refused to soak up more. E ra September and was with antibiotics, ensuring their suffering to not let it go further. No longer begging or played listless: hatred kept him. An emotion not delete ba former, old newspapers piled up as usual with the news. Nothing heal, and not for lack of sleep. No more pictures or literature, words lose their balance not to say, and with whom you stoned. Waste. He did not destroy to live. The confusion of tenses, voices and the absence of full stops not uncomfortable. Des Esseintes (Go! "Exclaimed looking at his watch, but if it's time to go home!) had whispered to him from his confinement, Do unto others as you would not have them do unto you. If they loose grieve not know how to enjoy and exploit opportunities. Muermos! Hate your parents. Life needs money, houses, and he did not have enough, nor want to get in line. Rows stoop any claim. It's your turn!, He said after waiting a long time. Do your Business! Whatever works, the lethargy of romantic aspirations. Take, who is single, for now! The revolution of self, the egocentric, because I'm worth. The most beautiful melody, a tune when the hum vulgar others, Satie Gimnopedias mobile. Act, decide or disappear, disappear. Silenced, and be worthy of admiration. A donut is. Left to do. Playing dead. Sure, you get old, or feel, and not fun. DNR. cavorting with people who will not love ever, bite, visit the ruins and wonder. Deprivation, need ... revive the desire: MS. Made her feel cheap from pounding so rampant, the momentum of the white nights. Say it was fantastic! The youth should dawn on understanding, owed. Forget the gun at the scene of
crime and mingle with the crowd, kissing without looking at who, as a parent. The marquis said dulls the palate, that boredom is always imposed and the lovers fall traps, orphans, since it is already! Wanting is a verb. He spent some pages. Only interested in the first few times, but I was terrified of lightning tenderness, without pretense of resistance and victory, preferably, for treatment. All were cuddling in bulk, words in parentheses. I lost no time in case. Not bear his tenderness and fidelity, not tolerate their blandishments and their lightness, a nice souvenir treacherous. What kind of truth is that? There was nothing but lies, as dirty as the truth, and begging. Problems bitter, should pass the buck. How can you help one another castaway castaway? Their incentives are useless resistance. The reunions are cowards, hearts mercantile valium in the pantry. While saying he waited, gave the kick to the weather. A happy hope, but nothing as vivid and tangible like a dream ... and abandon the living. How innocent Mastroianni. Something that does not happen now should remain buried very deep. The angels not take risks. His selfishness was eating him strength. It is not surprising that unleashed daily carnage, no one was at the height of their hate, or love between teeth. The country was pure abdication. Nothing had to change and to business as usual, or much worse. There was no freedom to be unhappy, just to love the future without raising his voice, as if there, grinning from ear to ear. No respite without humiliation dwelt upon. Perhaps they were paid as extras for snacks at the door here and there, offered to all companies? Do not wait to call you! Take advantage of the desperation that someone dictates. The 
crisis was his mattress. "You have to negative all." Virgen del horror and pleasure, those three sentences, what you can do at the end of a night. The bodies are comprehensive. And with all precautions words are few, all those rolls that letting go of such abortions happiness. Aphorisms that others put in their mouths, postcards, anthologies and greatest hits. He had said to resonate in your dreams, rung incessantly. No time to clean their miseries, the vulgarity of their success. It was a gulf in the league. Life long chains you to the ghosts, leaving you before you face him twist: you can not spit it out. "Squeeze the most possible punishment to become yourself? His soul was full of memories pigs. Lamentations for Old Men. Still, better to love, to grief, if nobody bought in exchange, take care to avoid mold. Pain in the basement, the pleasure on the catwalk, all desperate to play. The sensitive little guy are unable to enjoy, "only let in love timid." Ya!, And is only known that he loves. He closed the book, looked like someone who was about to go wrong. Revived the fear of going mad. Then I tried to write a pamphlet against the conscience of the time, but writing it was a contradiction, a survival instinct. It was the task of healthy people. He did it with disdain and stumbling, it was because he was told that it is believed at least once in writing. Did not work: not the issue went beyond the role. She kept rep 
etirse that he too was a fraud to survive their problems with their wailing drowned. Heroes around the clock. Were they inherited from any young man in conflict, one of the bunch. No one dies of grief, she resists. All love life deniers and poison: souls which this torture, the past and the future frightens repugnant. Living in the past had been his future. Most people do not die until the last moment, others do it thirty years earlier, gag their shamelessness. We repeat, we have nothing to say. From the impressionable age at the time of baking cakes. When death is scarce mucus imagination turkey. The reasons are safely on their own, without anyone to call them. Ninth floor that you value. It was the best deal. They said they, those who understand, it's harder to give up love life, the custom is growing faster than the value. And again to make sure it was empty / to and learn something to forget, what had killed him. If she shouted Frog, he jumped, the reason is fear, always. Say no more. Neither forget nor forgive. On the radio sounded Modern Love , of David Bowie. But Things do not really change / I'm standing in the wind / But I never wave bye-bye . He thought the face of Denis Lavant. He also sought the blood on his chest. All the stories tell of a breakup, they owe something to someone, try to cover their tracks. The character of his book he bursts in, all the love in reserve. She'd waste his pride for the love of another. Now I was far enough away to not reach out and close enough to repudiate. For you the immediacy and eternity for me, for you the sheets and poetry for me unclean. One should appear occupation feed their eyes, but the boredom, and you ngulle, it penetrates the gut of the time. A long intercourse flee 
life. Move is to live, where hope is almost visible. With deep pockets before it succumbs. Justified their cowardice day through the nausea and violence that was breached, to ig ual validates the optimism sharing happiness. All he insisted, he did not need much to be frustrated. His heart was proud of his fate, had saved so much beauty untaxed! Of course, artists, groupies or workalcoholics . In the street least one thought it next to that lighthouse, but just left his retirement. It amused him as a foreign spy, without further consideration, although it was difficult too interested Siado. It was late, the end of the night. Yesterday, today and tomorrow in the same room. The rejection does not lead to love, is a good excuse. 3:44 a.m. The Awakening never liked. He had done nothing wrong, was beautiful. Something happens to me, he thought. For now try to get through the damn day before the melancholy pervades everything. 
How old was already a young man! How awareness of homelessness had been anywhere paralyze and suffocate inside! How beautiful it was to belong to someone in hatred or impatience, love or sadness! A sad enthusiasm seized from Joseph provided an open window I felt the magical warmth of a home is reflected in it, the lonely, the wandering, the stateless, standing amid the cold street.
Helper. Robert Walser
I asked so little in life and that very little life
denied me weigh myself (...) No
much to know that I exist, and not required
be anything other nor 's nothing about me. E l
world belongs to those who feel no sympathy Who (...), (...) stops
What would the world be if we
human? If man really feel
would not have civilization.
denied me weigh myself (...) No
much to know that I exist, and not required be anything other nor 's nothing about me. E l
world belongs to those who feel no sympathy Who (...), (...) stops
What would the world be if we
human? If man really feel
would not have civilization.
The Book of Disquiet. Fernando Pessoa
