banda sonora, aquí
La mañana ha empezado mal porque Blogger no me dejaba publicar, no me dejaba comentar, no me dejaba hacer nada. Trabajos de mantenimiento. I had been fatal, because censorship takes away the urge to write. Censorship and the art produced by self-censorship. Self-censorship is the worst of the two and I have to admit that I dry creativity can not say what I want.
- I've been reading - says La Confidential - Glad you have not talked about the wedding. It
we were at a wedding recently and she feared he had decided to tell me here. I do not know why, but I feared, but did not say it clearly. I do not know if I was going to have the wedding or not - has not been the most interesting thing that happened to me lately - but it got me thinking who congratulated me for not written anything. It is assumed that in this world congratulate you for having written and not otherwise. Maybe they are rare days. I hope something. I hope I do not know what you are. I have discussed with Do not call me, I have come to discuss, I have self-censored. It may be better, says La Confidential, it may be better not to talk. I close my eyes, I see you have not calm if not mixed with boredom. Cojitrancos see picks and bulls, several concerns, silent disappearance, computer viruses. I do not know if that can be seen, but I see it. I do things to forget. To forget self-censorship. To forget that self-censorship seems to me when what happens is that there are things that happened to write ...
Ahora que quiero llamar a No Me Llames Así para pedir perdón, no me coge el teléfono.
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