... Snow or issues that I read gave me very hot and then very cold. Snow, dirty and hard, that I ended up eating in the hope of finding an answer in vain.
... The snow, which absorbs everything - noise, falls, time - to better showcase the things eternal and immutable as the blood, light, illusions. .. Basically, the snow who invented the mystery. By the same token, it was she who invented poetry, printmaking, question mark, and this great hunt what love .... (From Sabotage amore, A. Nothomb).
The snow freezes, or nearly so, the West Midlands and perhaps more serious, the rest of the UK. Some also serves as an excuse not to go out, that miles do more, that you did not really want to do ... and with his candor mentions a striking Being That not much into me. I think. I suppose. Why is it so difficult to clarify? But I'm much into it That ? I would, but honestly I can not even talk to myself. I feel like a teenager with adult qualms. I would cite as appropriate soundtrack this mess we are in of PJ Harvey and Thom Yorke, while in reality today, on the train that plowed the snow-covered countryside, I made good company Who by fire and Paper Airplane by BUCK 65 in support of my melancholy resignation and cold.
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