I do not think that amount to him if the reunion occurs in one place or another, because I’m sure that there is hell, which would go beyond. The important thing for both life and death, is always love. And that there are enough between them. Miguel, has died of shortages. I gigs also. Miguel never loved her body.
My uncle saw the continuity of its origin in the nose of his daughter and that made that you amara his main trait to look in the mirror. Both artists. One with expanded music. One with your inner music. And who can show me that yesterday and nothing more crossing the door, or space or earth or the fourth dimension, not were awaiting them both the same person: a girl of 18, from hair long and so black eyes as the days where a child dies. One for love and because it was much by telling them. The other being his idol and because it made her dance with her boyfriend, one boy who still lives, but only a few days. To live it is soon forget it is not always good time.
She, was with me dancing until 3 in the morning in a concert of the border, in a village next to ours. A few days later he moved to the place where they could dance without hours, to go adapting the space and wait for all those who miss it. His father was the first to arrive. We will already be others. I wish that she not only wait for Michael. That would be sad. My uncle I am quiet. It was so easy to estimate, as difficult to avoid seeing you you girlfriends you between your two fingers the nose and you pellizcara. In that instant you dabas account that you, not belongings at all to his nickname, because you entered an incredible desire to do the same to him and looked at there was Curro Porritt in all its splendor. Miguel, when my uncle you pinch, you will notice that your nose again be that of one child whose eye passed life.