seems to me that the extreme idiocy of the belief which sees the professionalism of creative inspiration in the pen and notebook century with a black cover and the inscription engraved on her Moleskine. But for this notebook, wrapped in three pieces together, I went today nearly half the city shoe. Bookstore on the corner, feeling the Barbarian, composition books forever unconscious operation. Sometimes I think that people, young people who work there are torn by force from the world of ideas and characters, so just by an unknown force them into reality wtłoczyła city today and a bureaucratic system of culture. Against themselves, against the skills living in a land-line and prose, vegetate in a jungle-like dead drops sprinkled with heavy rain, smelling napalm.
I have my pen. Nib in sizes F ink blue. I like my pen. All black with a silver ring, just above the cap line. How can I have my own brand, snobby to Moleskine notebooks. Black cover, squared paper. The smell of intelligent thought, depth and meaning, free from szamania fast food and the race for the golden calf. A friend of over 35 years. Beautiful, proud woman. Free, no children. Rich in everything except happiness and love. A dramatic picture of a man striving for perfection in everything. Literally, everything, absolutely without exception, on the toilet and sraniu smarkaniu nose caught flu in the autumn slot. I got these I mean the rapid influx of words possible to write with a pen on a piece of the Moleskine. We are reminded of a scene from a movie. Room, actually a study, it saved stacks of identical notebooks. Paper tower with one hand, the paper tower on the other side. Low pyramids all around. September 11, boom, everything is turned upside down. Stoliczku to Cover the ... a little table on it: And for what?
Sacz Coca-Cola with bubbles of gas. Free from the distillate. Distillate prudently hid at the end of the cabinet under the sink. When I feel like today I know I do not give advice stoop, reach out and grab the neck of the bottle. She's there, I'm here. We know both the existence of each other. Each of us live side by side. Today, even the tearful rain and dark night will not be able to join us in one. Fortunately, because tomorrow would mean a long monologue in porcelain ...
I'm glad you a card, just like that, written on his knee ... First ...
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