Anthology of wounds - Arct

Anthology of Woundshappiness. I had to get out from the inner fog antiquearmor of a winning march. It was like a big love clutchedwith fury on the general movements of that time. Myhorse began to fly with the endless army of wishes, studies,maneuvers, these one of animals and insects….Underneath the water of disregard, our swordslooked as if took care not to come out on the surface.Time after time, amazed circles shook the marks thattraveled toward dead coastal areas. There were evensome suns rising that I passed with my horse run.The time passed. I thought that love for a new constructionleft behind the followers. I was lonely. Did Ihave only the victory? On the high façade of the miracleI was put as a knight fighter, symbol for them that waitto enter on my constellation. But passion doesn’t havewhere to go when the dreams became need able comparisonable joint. I say that the independence is linkedwith the fixing of characters. Until here my love went….After this my sword dissolved on the light that accompaniedthe obligation of them that wanted to becured…and this happened for the best of the reason,which seemed to win over my feelings.These people now come silent. They represent theirdocuments and pass on equipment combinations thatcheck the regularity of an empty perfection. And on thespecial cases they turn back again. But this time theycan be known by their striped wearing of the institutionswhen they have gained the right to win. The conceptof time is now shifted in a perfect scale….I keep in my hands the diagrams of the organizationof their thoughts. From the radiographs can be looked108