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was the last review. I could not fail.

I got ready as always to play station and on the couch in the White

closely with Bianca. Him.

White, who had a smile and lips,

who had never sad, never said enough.

I introduced myself to her house, so with a commitment

and a bag of books, philosophy, and betrayal.

I listened to him, then I stopped her taste on his lips, fingers

a ferment: spring awakening.

He returned his sister.

I had never seen it, I would not have most forgotten.

Viola, hurricane asleep.

He looked at me briefly, but he noticed my hair,

thin and long, like ripe wheat.

and noticed the old Nietzsche, Zarathustra the mountains.

struck me at first glance.

"I do not like" - I thought.

But it was beautiful, and capable of killing.

entered her room, walking on a bridge.

Shortly after it came out, hanging like a jewel

dressed in flowers and dazzling shine.

I asked, "Who are you."

He added: "I love you." While White

crazy. Only later

including gesture: when I heard that White was dead,

and that I would be charged.

White knew.

knew Viola.

It was just the defense.

Viola advanced towards me, who by chance was there,

contested case for that book, I made a case for examination.

unbuttoned his shirt, her breasts bloomed, primitive, such as milk of a lily. While White

crazy.

I was watching, hour after drinking, without even understanding,

nor the absence of White, or the onslaught of Viola, and not my role.

I went, in a quiet drunk, while Viola won,

while White went wild, while the night still had skin, while

White never said enough, while Viola can not say no, you can not

never say enough. While Viola

mad, while Bianca died.

I have not given consideration.

I gave in prison.

A thesis on Nietzsche.