My 12 wishes for 2011 ^ _ ^
Friday, December 31, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Can Red Wine Darken Stools
best is yet to come.
I really like the aphorisms, those lessons of wisdom condensed into few words. In a post it prominently placed in one of Balzac I have written that says "The resignation is a routine suicide."
hope that 2011 See how your desires are fulfilled.
rule, do not materialize the wishes of the night in the morning, but require a constant effort for some time.
In this transition period, there are times of weakness and uncertainty, which we plan to throw it all away. Well, then we can make use of the phrase of Balzac, and remember that the greater the difficulty, more pleasant will be the reward, and only allowed to go back to make a run.
All the best for next year.
mobile
I really like the aphorisms, those lessons of wisdom condensed into few words. In a post it prominently placed in one of Balzac I have written that says "The resignation is a routine suicide."
hope that 2011 See how your desires are fulfilled.
rule, do not materialize the wishes of the night in the morning, but require a constant effort for some time.
In this transition period, there are times of weakness and uncertainty, which we plan to throw it all away. Well, then we can make use of the phrase of Balzac, and remember that the greater the difficulty, more pleasant will be the reward, and only allowed to go back to make a run.
All the best for next year.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Compustar Remote Reset
Better late than never. Find
Melody awoke in a state of semi consciousness. She found herself sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed to go out. Beside, the old leather suitcase, half full-half empty, surrounded by several shirts, dresses and pants, even attached to their perches, but ready to be folded and packed in search of new direction. Two pairs of shoes lay on the carpet.
still dormant, pressed, mechanically, the key to green design of your phone. He felt at that moment, his hands were hot, sweaty and bright. On the other hand, a familiar voice said "Hello." So who should have answered, dropped the top of your body 90 degrees, resting on the bed, and hung up.
Confused, he asked how he got there the suitcase, and who would have been filled, because I did not remember herself. It was the only person in the house ... Is it possible that ...?
always wanted to travel, but the university, lack of money, his family and work, in chronological order, it had been prevented.
And it seemed that in the end, had won the game desires locked away in the remotest corner of his unconscious. Their anxieties dominated each of his muscles.
After contemplating for a long time the suitcase half done, could not help but continue to put every piece of clothing inside.
finished this task, he headed for the door.
On the table by the entrance was his leather hat. He bought some years after a crush on after seeing it in a window. I had never used. But when traveling in dreams, always covered her hair black.
phone rang again, same screen name. The same familiar voice, this time in a slightly more aggressive, said: - Why did you hang?
And this time, it was no answer: - I'm going.
- What?
- Let me go.
- But ... where?
- A elsewhere.
Photo by Anne 
Melody awoke in a state of semi consciousness. She found herself sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed to go out. Beside, the old leather suitcase, half full-half empty, surrounded by several shirts, dresses and pants, even attached to their perches, but ready to be folded and packed in search of new direction. Two pairs of shoes lay on the carpet.
still dormant, pressed, mechanically, the key to green design of your phone. He felt at that moment, his hands were hot, sweaty and bright. On the other hand, a familiar voice said "Hello." So who should have answered, dropped the top of your body 90 degrees, resting on the bed, and hung up.
Confused, he asked how he got there the suitcase, and who would have been filled, because I did not remember herself. It was the only person in the house ... Is it possible that ...?
always wanted to travel, but the university, lack of money, his family and work, in chronological order, it had been prevented.
And it seemed that in the end, had won the game desires locked away in the remotest corner of his unconscious. Their anxieties dominated each of his muscles.
After contemplating for a long time the suitcase half done, could not help but continue to put every piece of clothing inside.
finished this task, he headed for the door.
On the table by the entrance was his leather hat. He bought some years after a crush on after seeing it in a window. I had never used. But when traveling in dreams, always covered her hair black.
phone rang again, same screen name. The same familiar voice, this time in a slightly more aggressive, said: - Why did you hang?
And this time, it was no answer: - I'm going.
- What?
- Let me go.
- But ... where?
- A elsewhere.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Word Academic Poster Template
plot. Things that happen
After reading all the books in his personal library Don Ginés CAMBOA Baron decided to become a renowned writer.
On the desk in his office ordered a packet of pages, and gold fountain pen, with a box load of ink.
however, could not think of any plot.
Then he changed his location, he sat in the old armchair of his great grandfather in front of the fireplace. But the Muses did not appear.
Frustrated, he went to the second floor, and lay on the couch of the nineteenth century. It did not work, still no ideas.
days passed and the pages were blank.
Baron, I used to see their wishes satisfied very soon, I was desperate. Ran cursing his luxurious mansion, with a silk robe and gray hair tousled.
One day, decided to climb to the top floor and open all windows. Wrote a couple of lines on a sheet and threw it through one, and then launched himself into space.
found his body next to a blood-stained sheet that read: "At least now someone will have a story you write." 
After reading all the books in his personal library Don Ginés CAMBOA Baron decided to become a renowned writer.
On the desk in his office ordered a packet of pages, and gold fountain pen, with a box load of ink.
however, could not think of any plot.
Then he changed his location, he sat in the old armchair of his great grandfather in front of the fireplace. But the Muses did not appear.
Frustrated, he went to the second floor, and lay on the couch of the nineteenth century. It did not work, still no ideas.
days passed and the pages were blank.
Baron, I used to see their wishes satisfied very soon, I was desperate. Ran cursing his luxurious mansion, with a silk robe and gray hair tousled.
One day, decided to climb to the top floor and open all windows. Wrote a couple of lines on a sheet and threw it through one, and then launched himself into space.
found his body next to a blood-stained sheet that read: "At least now someone will have a story you write."
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