Sobota, 1 lutego 2014. Spod śniegu wydostają się główki pierwszych kwiatów, krokusów i przebiśniegów. Owce zaczynają karmić mlekiem swoje nowo narodzone jagnięta. Mleko owiec staje się symbolem tego czasu. Czasu powracającego światła, ciepła i życia. Czasu, na który my ciągle czekamy. To także czas powracającego światła. Zapalmy zatem świecę dla Bogów.

I am, I said Neil Diamond. Originally posted on Notes from Over The Hill. Today, I long for a space in which to lie, watching the dancing dust motes caught in the shafts of sunlight pouring in through the bedroom window. Perhaps I would stay in our bed, and stretch out my arm across to your side, remembering the warm place where earlier your languid limbs lay sleeping, watched by the smiling moon through a sliver of open curtain.

So things have a been a bit quiet here, that is due to me having moved my blogs to my new site. She polled an impressive 599 votes on the first count and picked up a number of large chunks of transfers later in the day. The outspoken campaigner has been in PBPA for e.

Saying yes instead of no to the nerdy kid that asked you to the senior prom who later grew up to be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Now I am become death, the shatterer of worlds. The atomic bomb dropped two months later. My point, friend, in taking you on this mental tr.

945; toi de trouver lα tienne.