Thursday, March 19, 2009

Psr Yamaha Cubase Usb Midi



Reflection is usually the same that has been there the last few years. Some details about other missing, but the image is essentially the same as they are every day and some evenings inclusive. Water droplets roll off the omnipresent glow of weird that is everywhere. See them fall following the windings of the route, stopping at every beautiful, delayed at every hole. Nobody is

gold bottle you want, think. And strange. No surprise to anyone. No wonder something. It is strange to himself, laughter and knowing look fresh. The rictus pleasant, honest smile. Think about what she has begun to take such bad decisions. The brightness of his eyes betrayed anxiety, stubbornness, regret, doubt, and - however not take place in those dark circles - hope. What? Himself, apparently.

horizontal line that connects your mouth does not know when it started this frenzy. This string of unrelated events and so badly concatenated. This disregard all rules of human method, the flags embrace both wrong and let them linger. The lines of his face show a stubbornness unnecessary worthy - perhaps - a better reason. The traces of sadness betray his brow. Distress. The downward angle of his eyebrows, restlessness. Uncertainty. I hate the uncertainty!

overlooks some beautiful white and in case of sparse hairiness. Is greater than it is. He looks tired. Harto. Maybe internally misses the luxury of going away - even further? - A little known and long for sites where one can cut the roots and completely cut these demons do not leave him alone. Total - seems to say - the key is never going to break. Those that did not break even and those who will never break. But ... there is always a but ... There is also fear. His hair still rebel - rebel incredible - you know that isolation does not suit. Often miss even what should not miss. This, that and the further, more here and acuyá. Of all these things, in which there are several who want to quit, you know things are going to miss that the most painful and the distance is knowing, precisely, that the farther away you are is more difficult to return.

And does your absence your wrong decisions going to let it be? Did you find something there? What do you want? Who do you want to find?

myself, the picture response, and only seems to be alive. Knowing that somewhere, at some point is the same image, standing, waiting. Like when you expect your father to accompany you somewhere, and with patience and love be entertained while you quench your curiosity on what distracted you. Already too distracted and - in part because of the time, partly because of the hindrances that flood your view - does not seem to find the way back. The road where you will meet your own image. That no doubt, one that does not criticize, one that does not rezondra and no doubt. Who knows where he is and where it goes.

The problem has not been the decisions or demons. The problem is it. The image. You know you have to walk but his legs do not dare to move. One hopes it is attacked. What? Superfluous, fatuous, futile. But hope - or stubbornness? - In the final analysis.

The reflex is usually it has been there the last few years. But now it moves. You go and just seems to notice your presence. - I want to talk - you said. And you think "years ago not stop talking and do not solve anything. You should start doing something about how much you have accumulated there." And you walk away. Possibly reflecting stay there. And you may want to keep talking when I noticed it and you take notice again. You will see it and think: "this reflection is usually the same that has been there the past years."

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