Second - Wind

We will change the tiles and keep the names on the right. I gave my windy hair in the morning, I have a song in my ear and I have a whistle in my mouth. I love her, but I do not know who she is. I like to love the most. I like the little kitten coming from my wing. I like to mix. I love his discovery; paths, colors, love ... as fragile as an unprotected glass vase. I understand from my hair, with a little loss. My hands smell orange. This smell is from familiar places. This smell is not more than orange, what? I am releasing a dolmuş, I can not walk, rheumatism does not leave my legs this morning. Where will I meet that little boy that day?

Pain is always a person, happiness is plural. You come to an army to hold the hand of the person you love. Things in the sea and wood sea. Holding an elderly beggar's hand while kissing his lover as he goes. But you may not have left your favorite one.

Pain is always a person, happiness is plural. You come to an army to hold the hand of the person you love. Things in the sea and wood sea. Holding an elderly beggar's hand while kissing his lover as he goes. But you may not have left your favorite one.