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Photo: Route d'Amiens " (early twentieth century)
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Pokemon Shiny Gold Cheats For Visual Advance
41 - Photo-old Warloy Baillon
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Photo: Route d'Amiens " (early twentieth century)
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Photo: Route d'Amiens " (early twentieth century)
How Many Tamazapams Are Lethal
40 - Photos-souvenirs-Baillon Warloy
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Photos: "Father Dave"
Cure Warloy-Bailey from 1951 to 1980. For those not very old, who remember ...
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Photos: "Father Dave"
Cure Warloy-Bailey from 1951 to 1980. For those not very old, who remember ...
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Why Is My Cervix Large?
39 - Curiosity about the historical and social warloysiens ...
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Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Nj Outdoor Gay Cruising
38 - Attendance at Warloy-Baillon
He wanders in the "path 'Harponville "on the outskirts of Warloy-Bailey ... He does not know when he was born. Above him the sky, clouds, holes immense clarity and shadow in the sky. At the bottom, soil, dust, noise of his own footsteps in the dry grass. In his head, mirages, a vague idea of happiness. A flame too. A jewel unclear. Love? The wind, maybe ... The effect of the elements on his soul unsatisfied fever.
love, maybe love ... Or call poetry. The horizon, the future death. How do I know? He walks, drunk, tormented heart, his head full of strange dreams and supreme.
Now he hurried on, haunted by his lights. And more and more resolute, goes to the fog in the distance. The wind around him is like a great silence, a pat down from the heights which it has radiant intuition. Lost in his melancholy, he does not feel fatigue. Wings win, her eyes soft and scared to dive into invisible depths. It flies more than it works, insensitive to the burden of gravity.
A light ahead.
He also expects light. Historically, for a moment, he does not know. He forgot everything except the taste of the infinite, the flavor of the ether, the call of the spirit, the brilliance of beauty, truth of poetry. All tangled in it, everything becomes clear, too. He walks, hastens, rises, stumbles, gets up, takes its course crazy. The horizon disappears, the light is amplified. The picture becomes clearer.
He's dead, he's alive, it's here, he is there, it is the sky, clouds, grass, wind, dust. He remembers now. Become light itself, it radiates.
He died, buried for a century, living a thousand years, fell walking, died of grief, returned to dust, who died alone with a secret love in his heart, he is pursuing a secret incomplete without continually for a century, a thousand years.
Raphaël Zacharie de Izarra
love, maybe love ... Or call poetry. The horizon, the future death. How do I know? He walks, drunk, tormented heart, his head full of strange dreams and supreme.
Now he hurried on, haunted by his lights. And more and more resolute, goes to the fog in the distance. The wind around him is like a great silence, a pat down from the heights which it has radiant intuition. Lost in his melancholy, he does not feel fatigue. Wings win, her eyes soft and scared to dive into invisible depths. It flies more than it works, insensitive to the burden of gravity.
A light ahead.
He also expects light. Historically, for a moment, he does not know. He forgot everything except the taste of the infinite, the flavor of the ether, the call of the spirit, the brilliance of beauty, truth of poetry. All tangled in it, everything becomes clear, too. He walks, hastens, rises, stumbles, gets up, takes its course crazy. The horizon disappears, the light is amplified. The picture becomes clearer.
He's dead, he's alive, it's here, he is there, it is the sky, clouds, grass, wind, dust. He remembers now. Become light itself, it radiates.
He died, buried for a century, living a thousand years, fell walking, died of grief, returned to dust, who died alone with a secret love in his heart, he is pursuing a secret incomplete without continually for a century, a thousand years.
Raphaël Zacharie de Izarra
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Is It Safe To Eat Mouldy Salami
37 - Chastise the ugly
One day a beautiful species interlocutor pointed out to me that aesthetic worthy of the name would never stoop to slap a woman if she was foolish, even native-Warloy Baillon ...
course. I would add that female beauty, even very bad, have all rights and no way that these poisonous creatures do not deserve to face the gauntlet of a sybaritic, perched on top if it is Headed . I do not deny for a moment this remarkable truth.
But ugly girls of the shadow, the unelected devoted to the aesthetic deprivation, women who finally have not had the luck to be born under the wing of Venus, so they have the eyes of wit any price? I think not. The ugly women are they not evil by definition? An ugly woman can not be good. And though it would be good, how could no beauty without it being like a man of rank?
And if beauty is combined with corruption which still has some sweetness, some sparkle in our eyes full of elegance and indulgence, however the ugliness associated with the wickedness she does not deserve our deepest contempt and punishment the toughest in the simple fact that these children of vipers born out of the mire can never deceive us, we fine bloods?
I can not bring myself to give the ugliness of any rights granted to the descendants of Aphrodite. This would be an affront to taste that does not slap the ugly face of one who would usurp the beauty crown. No, the ugly ones do not deserve our forgiveness. Their very existence in this world, forming a permanent insult to the beauty, no mercy should lessen the pain of being what they are.
Beautiful women, whether good or bad, brilliant or stupid will always argue that higher cause that characterizes them, beauty, make amends for their faults. What will never be the case of ugly.
This ultimate argument that only exacerbates their disgrace definitely legitimate bellows with their arrogance and cruelty we destine.
Raphaël Zacharie de Izarra 
One day a beautiful species interlocutor pointed out to me that aesthetic worthy of the name would never stoop to slap a woman if she was foolish, even native-Warloy Baillon ...
course. I would add that female beauty, even very bad, have all rights and no way that these poisonous creatures do not deserve to face the gauntlet of a sybaritic, perched on top if it is Headed . I do not deny for a moment this remarkable truth.
But ugly girls of the shadow, the unelected devoted to the aesthetic deprivation, women who finally have not had the luck to be born under the wing of Venus, so they have the eyes of wit any price? I think not. The ugly women are they not evil by definition? An ugly woman can not be good. And though it would be good, how could no beauty without it being like a man of rank?
And if beauty is combined with corruption which still has some sweetness, some sparkle in our eyes full of elegance and indulgence, however the ugliness associated with the wickedness she does not deserve our deepest contempt and punishment the toughest in the simple fact that these children of vipers born out of the mire can never deceive us, we fine bloods?
I can not bring myself to give the ugliness of any rights granted to the descendants of Aphrodite. This would be an affront to taste that does not slap the ugly face of one who would usurp the beauty crown. No, the ugly ones do not deserve our forgiveness. Their very existence in this world, forming a permanent insult to the beauty, no mercy should lessen the pain of being what they are.
Beautiful women, whether good or bad, brilliant or stupid will always argue that higher cause that characterizes them, beauty, make amends for their faults. What will never be the case of ugly.
This ultimate argument that only exacerbates their disgrace definitely legitimate bellows with their arrogance and cruelty we destine.
Raphaël Zacharie de Izarra
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