Sale
Dear readers, friends of the day, hello
In baking, it makes bread.
Certainly.
And then sells it.
Got to sell sticks of a dose to receive his salary (employer version: to pay salaries)
And here is what it looks like ...
Friday, February 5, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Scholarships For People With Out Thyroids
Walking in Paris in January
One Sunday in Paris grayish
One Sunday in Paris grayish
clock Saturday evening post
last time I take a good breakfast, my tea hot, my heavenly bread
this ritual zapped 6 days 7 to benefit the race to the subway and breakf
standing at work and then I start to do nothing, watch series
deficient,
Facebooker
so I decided to go walk up to her
object my journey
the great Iron Lady
I am well covered, he did a lil while but not too cool
and I walk
Paris is beautiful, I pass
rue Jean Giraudoux, souvenir
spent hours looking for how to turn phrases memory
spent hours swimming in the madness of Chaillot
spent hours dreaming about stagings of 45, wondering if it is the right time
I continue to walk the cobblestone streets
the Champ de Mars, the darkness begins
everywhere there are tourists who are holding hands and have a photo of
vendors
no, no jveux toureiffelminiature
a little boy who wanders with his parents
"oh it's the same as Vanilla" - he talks about his dog, I guess
her mother "no, Vanilla is bigger, but the same color"
"yes, the same color as her"
father "we do not say it, we say" she "
the son" it is the same color "
I smile, joy
Sunday in the cool darkness of a late to walk
last time I take a good breakfast, my tea hot, my heavenly bread
this ritual zapped 6 days 7 to benefit the race to the subway and breakf
standing at work and then I start to do nothing, watch series
deficient,
Facebooker
so I decided to go walk up to her
object my journey
the great Iron Lady
I am well covered, he did a lil while but not too cool
and I walk
Paris is beautiful, I pass
rue Jean Giraudoux, souvenir
spent hours looking for how to turn phrases memory
spent hours swimming in the madness of Chaillot
spent hours dreaming about stagings of 45, wondering if it is the right time
I continue to walk the cobblestone streets
the Champ de Mars, the darkness begins
everywhere there are tourists who are holding hands and have a photo of
vendors
no, no jveux toureiffelminiature
a little boy who wanders with his parents
"oh it's the same as Vanilla" - he talks about his dog, I guess
her mother "no, Vanilla is bigger, but the same color"
"yes, the same color as her"
father "we do not say it, we say" she "
the son" it is the same color "
I smile, joy
Sunday in the cool darkness of a late to walk
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