Minos, tyrant and judge of the Underworld was a man with delusions of grandeur, or perhaps a visionary. The desire for a white bull was for him a dream of beauty, utopia was born to die at dawn. Minos, the son of Zeus and Europa, ruler of Crete and Knossos, the gods did not know how you break down the choices of the visionaries, stained with blood and tears in their path, waiting for fall to remind their human frailty. Despite the dream of that white bull was dead at the dawn of a new day, Minos, however, remained standing, not the gods, leaving the possibility of a silly laugh. Still lost in the pages of myth lives on, waiting for someone ready to hear the muffled chatter of a mad visionary, that weaves threads of unattainable dreams.
Demetrius, like a small suburb of Minos, had transport and violent predisposition toward the bad memories and past lives, in pursuit of unattainable dreams. It was then that he began to remember when he met a special person, the girl with the difficult words, and his white bull.
On days when the knew the rain was relentless and he watched her, alone. The smile was gone in him and what he considered his best. To keep him company, there were fifteen pounds. The gods had cursed his sloth and his indifference. Demetrius was interested in only his underwear outcry, everything else was oddments. In a previous chapter was a promising young Calabrian but too long to survive on neglect. He had stopped fighting and hope for a bright future. Each bud opened turned into gall, and his face, every time, changed the phrase to make a caricature involuntary chased by two slits for eyes. In the past, had a brilliant foliage, reduced now to shoot strands of decline.
listened in the dark "Pink Moon" by Nick Drake, lamented on how it was possible to conceive of such grace.
Because life is always doggedly idle dreamers, decree without them even a small pension of infidelity? Where the reward, where the bed of Perpetual Kindergarten? Life is a battle no quarter from the boredom and pain and every warrior without a shield and no armor has the right to surrender before being overpowered, he thought to himself. Remember
a mouthguard because the language does not become torn apart, not to find yourself swallowing your own blood. It is never slight tenderness ...
was then that Demetrius would still give him a smile, rocked by the words of a woman ... words that sound a bit 'so ... The transcendental object in the form cognitive ... In those days, Demetrius still did not understand these words, perhaps because he was only able to tell an ignorant and idiotic statements made by chocolates.
"At least for tonight - Demetrius thought to himself - are no exception, accompanying the difficult words from the girl ... and no demon will touch these sheets of Interest ...
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