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.:Tuesday, January 24, 2006:.
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Aima Sola.

(Warning: the next text wasn't meant to be posted on this blog, on no ones', but it happened and it's full of personal and unpersonal good -really good- and bad- the worse- kind of bs.)


Dear you,

When it comes to you, I know I become the kind of woman that does not get drunk that easily... I now know it's because of the wine I used to buy for all our meals, the red liquid went directly to my heart instead of my mind, actually it made my heart drunk and my mind still. It was a purely mindless emotion, full of heart intellect, absolute romance and soulful pleasure.
When it comes to you, I'm the kind of woman who, when suddenly faces with an resounding truth -the one you can't deny- approaches it with such a sense of wonder that it is impossible for me ever to grasp it completely, which makes it all more powerful...
and I'm sorry darling, because when it comes to me -like Gabo said-, I prefer to dedicate the time I got in someone that's willing to spend some of it with me.
...When it comes to us, it's hard to believe we were an intersection of timeless moments, but it was time itself the one who emptied down to the last piece all that imaginary.We were predictable dying creatures, or evicted patients, with this urgency of spending all the time they had left. And at the end, there was nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination that made me speak in different languages and feel stoned with lectures on Dadaism, sex, rum and dreams of life as a nightmare.
Yes,Miha, you entered my soul early... You, in whom I was emotion without body and merlot without blue into red grape.

And honey, when it comes to us, we were losing the game of relation into the abyss a couple whose fate was a cloud of timeless hydrogen, alcohol, serenades and focaccias. Nevertheless I don't regret a thing, after all, we were able to be hugs and kisses under our sheets that caught us all night and didn't let us sleep, yes, you were my best pillow and I won't forget the mercy of our eternal undersheet war and the victory of our short but strong kind of loving... Love being forceful and passive, greedy and giving, wordy and silent.

In fact, there's so much to say, so much to hate and so much to love but so little time to spend doing it, and we are too young and yet too old to keep fighting and falling in love again and again and again.
But yet again, you still owe me half of your life I'm willing to exchange for a cup of coffee or a glass of red wine.

The honor, pleasure and devotion were all mine.

Yours faithfully,

ta femme fatale

Laura J. Beltrán.
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.:Lo wrote this at: 4:53 AM:.
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