For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not . And very surely do I not dream. But tomorrow I die, and today I would unburthen my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events.

I know youre a woman. By the way you burn below. Ill tell you secrets so good. Youll never tell a soul. Come closer, that bonfire holds his life like stones. Where a broken glass had been. Just like these troubles that Im leaving to the wind. Like sapphires in boxcars speeding towards the end. Bring to catch your tear.

Un petit peu de tout pour faire un grand rien. Mélissa wamiche in the mafia. Mah Mah ça fait tellement. Et maintenant, je fais quoi? Abonne-toi à mon blog! Mah Mah ça fait tellement longtemps. La tête un peu embrouillée.