Snow Plough For Honda Pilot

Migrating from Blogger to WordPress


And so ends my time in Blogger ...

This is the last post, in these parts, because now I'll post on my new blog , which is implemented in WordPress, and where I drive my own subdomain, DBs, hosting, etc, I mean I have full control over the.

All posts of this blog have been migrated to the new :-). We read


!, C and!

-

Sugasti Silvia aka [Adeene]

Party Cove Lake Of The Ozarks Mo 2010

Goodbye Blogger

I come to say goodbye

of Blogger , of \u200b\u200byou do not.

I moved to my own page www.escriboaqui.es . I hope all the people I have linked to this blog, change the link to the new. And hopefully it
come with me to my new blog . Where I will continue writing as I have done here so far.

Thank you all. And thanks for following me again.

Can Chicken Pox Make Men Sterile

Where is eigual? Back to see

Yes, so where am I?:

Well I'm working. Working on my new blog , which will be my new page, I hope that within a few days to be ready and able to write here the link, and share with you all.
I bite my tongue, nails, and brush against despair because they can not write, can not write all the stories and all the things I write and I take my time it is taking the blog I'm designing (it is difficult This design eh, I did not remember). Calculation
about 3 or 4 days to get it ready.
I must say that made me really excited that I buy my own domain. Finally have a name in this space, a more settled. And good design, as God intended. And chosen and designed by me, because in a blog has to feel comfortable and that are going to spend many hours on it.

So nothing. I say goodbye until my next post, which will be a farewell to this blog blogger, who both also made me and let me share with you readers, so many stories, so many words.
But although my next post will be a farewell, it is actually welcome, is to make way for a new era to begin now. Shortly. In a few days.

I can only say one thing,

thanks, thanks and thanks.

Tiffany Granath Stripper

We toured the small forest that was near your cottage.
Are you tired? "I asked. might be pregnant -answered-but no, I'm used to walking on earth and stones.
thin I told you about what you saw, how well you were the blue rimmed glasses, and those old friends are old and are not our friends. I laughed and I could have cast into the laughter laughter small stitching with that old wound left open once, but this time he was forgotten.
Your Father, are you still painting? and telling war stories "I asked softly.
My Father, yes, still painting, and continues with the story I told you almost fell asleep while -answer me without removing your eyes from the road of earth and stones.
I do not sleep. I remember all the stories, do you count them? -I answer, not to look into your eyes.
smile. No thanks -smiles again. Pretty I have with my Father, "he concluded, laughing and looks. Yes, your eyes. That look. I forget that look full of uncertainties. I remember the last time we look and you told me you wanted to be alone, you did not want me around again. And that view contradicted your words. I repeated over and over again, I would miss, which would pass bad, and not being selfish not tell you Who else that you would miss would be me. And I kept quiet.
I give a box of colors, and inside are all the letters that I wrote and I never let you go. Why did you come to live so far away? "I ask trembling.
And you stay silent. I imagine that your father's illness doctors told you that clean air will do you good. But as you, I'd do some good to you this pure air, this loneliness? . I answer no.
We stopped on the road. You have left the box on a stone and you sat holding my hand tightly and not let go an instant.
When are you going to assimilate his death?. You to accept it, please. She is dead. He died that day. I also imagine it hanging around here, and even smell the almond biscuits cooked and filled the whole house smell. But you have to move on. She is not. He left us, unfortunately, 5 years ago. And you, girl, come back each year to meet her in this old wooden house, but never find. Because unfortunately she is dead.
daughter, takes up this box of letters. She can not read this. And, ever.
not ever come back here. She is not, you have to assimilate it - strikes me at the temples with his fingers. You have to understand: you have to bury that pain. Do not think like Father I do not miss it. The look behind the trees, and when the night seems to listen to for help in the forest. But it is my imagination. Just as your imagination is yours.

Take the train and not return. My daughter is dead and every time you come in search of you die a little and kill me a little.

Tamil Poems In English About Mother

Goodbye

Granada. Do not you imagine how beautiful it is Granada. But today I return to leave behind. And back to my home. My home is not here. I can not find my home in any corner of this beautiful city: a city that has seen me grow, fall in love, break up for the first time, and up, and heal my wounds. But I do not feel at home. Stay with a friend, Anne, and tell him I can not wait to return to Barcelona, \u200b\u200bthese streets are still full of desolation and memories. That even if I walk down the street I can see that Seat rise in blue, and that still gives me vertigo past and find the truth in the street.

writing this post from long ago, long time, it was my room at my sister's computer. That was all that far. I thought I shudder to walk on the terrace, that of which I spoke once, and yet I had no desire or to peek and see the sights, which once captivated me, and that many times in the distance I desired have. However, once here, everything changes. Now I just want to take a plane and go. I want to be Monday, I want to come early to go to my work, I want to go home and have a bowl of cereal with you. I want to catch that plane, malditasea, be by your side and take me in your strong hand. And once I'm gone, I return to Granada, but I want you back. And give a kiss on each corner. Inventing new memories with you in this city, which still has so much agony and sadness. However, I've had also.

And now I hear the sound of the swords of my brother.
And now, here comes the smell of coconut colony of my sister. And I hear
dishes and glasses in the kitchen screaming (my mother scrubbing).

Now, I know I only got an hour and a half to get away from here. To lose this smell, now, to lose this moment, this very moment I write this in the same place, exact place, where once I discovered that the Internet would revolutionize my life.
Now, between the noise and the things I say farewell to a strange but beautiful Granada.
and return. I always will. But I hope the next time it caught in your hand.
I'm afraid to fly, I'm afraid of airplanes.
And say goodbye, but my home is in another place, too. I am afraid that. Goodbye

family. Goodbye friends. Goodbye Granada.

How Do I Play Pokemon Snap On Sixtyforce

Granada City

cobbled street - Granada

walk through the house. Cats are hiding, not see them. I hear that kind of silence that can leave you deaf. That silence that settles in your ears and will not. Shuffling walk. I had never experienced this loneliness so strange, yet pleasant melancholy. Absence chew up the aisle, I look in the mirror and the rosto seriously I tell myself: "you have not yet gone" . I find the questions to my answers. I feel afraid to leave this city. A being kidnapped in the other and not let me return to this other life that I have found and where I am so happy. I have afraid to go, yet it was I who bought that ticket dated today.

mumbled something, that I can not understand or me. However I have wanted to walk around that city. Feel free of guilt, free of bad memories, free of bad company. Now it seems that smile, and I have to go look in the bathroom mirror to see if it's true.
Upon entering the room I have afraid to leave you here, so surrounded me, so together and so alone. I want to take me. I'm not going to do. Because I can.
will go to the places that hurt so much. I'll look those streets, which once witnessed so much pain, so much sorrow and unhappiness. And do not hurt me. Do not hurt me to see those streets paved. Do not feel that sharp pain in the stomach, or those nerves. Or miss the bus back home.

I'll love city, as I call it.

walk down the corridor, shuffling. I sink to the ground, sat by lying under and why I still have not gone and I'll see you in two hours.
The smell fills the house. I know it's not. I get up, go to the kitchen.
The cake has been charred.

you soon.