HTMLXC As Saramago said, never a tear, deface an email.
The mails are like the elves, immortal, or covered with a certain immortality. Steel are not affected, nor the passage of time.
I instead, prefers men, carriers of the notebook. Fatal, and sensitive.
"You are weak. I feel rather pay for what you feel," says the BMW's announcement stern deep voice.
probably save the virtual day more words than my notebook. Maybe.
But you'll never picked up the scent of eucalyptus leaf stuck on holiday.
I think there is no remedy, despite my status as a navigator, I'm still a bookworm.
A mbooks.
To me the codices.
To me the manuscripts.
Me incunabula.
"Coidémonos. Xenta Come" (M. Rivas)
