Audible Night

From the top of the mountain I can see the green trees like parrots and the dazzling blue-green lake. The trees are seen as far away as possible, and the mountains spread out on both sides of the eagle's feathers. When I took the camera device to a mountain with many rocks, when the wet sweat dripped down on my face and body, I noticed the landscape in front of my eyes and began thinking about how to take it into my camera from my heart . . I pulled my attention even with negligible detail.

When I awoke, my ears became so tight that my eyes closed and the noise of a distant night was heard but I picked up a bit of contradiction and what I should not do. Like a napkin falling to the floor, it sounds hardly heard, but something does not belong to something, this kind of thing does not match the rest of the night. My idea changed into panic, and this slight noise responded so strangely, but I felt existence. There is something. I will not dare to move, the smallest sheet can prevent the sound from reaching my eyes again, I need to make sure I did not think it. I feel the presence is getting stronger, but my eyes are still closed as it keeps me safe. Silence is overwhelming, but blood is rushed over my ears with little ears heard. Then I heard it again, I hear a bit, but maybe I just prepared it for it next time. I never thought of it. There is something

I remember that night. I encouraged the trembling of the cold, covered with the moonlight. Snoring almost duck's ankle snore will pass through the water, it is the only sound except your rough breath. I know that you will come. Even though I was sitting in the cold waiting for that feeling that night, even if this was the last one, I knew you had to see me again. Before they begin, our relationships, events, encounters and rendezvous are irrespective of what people call this kind of thing. It seems that our heart knows that we can not understand our thoughts. We are like pieces of two puzzles spliced ​​together so that you will lose sight of the larger picture.

That night, when I was on the computer, the singer lay horizontally on the bed, and I had to reconsider my previous conversation. I repeat. And it sounds. She used improvised flannel wearing, accompanied by an impressive round of snoring

The light of the bedroom disappeared and it hummed. Finally she slid through night vision goggles and waited for motion to stop on his huge king size bed. When she was satisfied with the length and depth of silence, she took out surgical instruments from a thin black casing. Then she unwounded her jumpsuit and then left. She always kills myself naked. Cleaning becomes easy. She crossed the room to bed. The moon was full of light, he did not close the curtain. She is inhaling violently. He is young and handsome. His eyes have long eyelashes and a brown curl outlines his innocent face. The covered arm is strong and carved with sunburn. She had to insert the instrument in his mind - she was trained, she knew that way - but she waited for a while and saw him sleep. At least he thinks he will settle down at the end because she grasped her wrist