prodouct: AURORA
Made in: F.na Francavilla (TOAST)
category: les passantes # 01
Aurora has not yet given consideration to the eighth grade, for the last candle on the cake was barely thirteen.
lips puff of pink vanity that let you get bored in 13 years only. Red cheeks ... I can imagine tremendous detail for a child. At least I hope. Obviously white skin, please. Yesterday
stall on the course before it is presented to a birthday party (peers at last) and its expression was forced to a press release at all discrete choice of boredom in the closet. Gas puffing tobacco, as if boredom was the prerogative of adults only, than to be attained as soon as the first shots drowned cigarette today and tomorrow virginity.
Aurora has big eyes, hypnotic and immature. Parted lips even if closed. Yesterday would honor its devoted girlfriends (a circle of peers over which it exercises a delicate charm reckless and haughty: ambassador of pre-adolescence in the temples of adults, Aurora), a skirt to lose balance and sense of limits. ALTERED, how much malice and perversion by Nabokov also confusing (or perhaps to make him vomit) if only he could.
Entering the charts of The Hole at 13 and sip the greetings and pull the wait. Mine too. Thirteen years. Damn. It is rhetoric that beauty did not register, but the aesthetic semiotics (ah ah) erotica dovrebbero imporre limiti d’età; un calmiere sociale contro la concorrenza spietata e una festa di primavera ufficiale con rito d’iniziazione all’età adulta. Censura… si impone censura a interni coscia e labbra di sospiri e palpebre pulsanti e fianchi di burro e cuscinetti di fiore.
Barba in barba bà bà ballè chè la meraviglia di Aurora è tremenda. Salutami.
“È la mia lettera d’amore se ti basta. Tu ti basti.”
(Erik Chilly)
Made in: F.na Francavilla (TOAST)
category: les passantes # 01
Aurora has not yet given consideration to the eighth grade, for the last candle on the cake was barely thirteen.
lips puff of pink vanity that let you get bored in 13 years only. Red cheeks ... I can imagine tremendous detail for a child. At least I hope. Obviously white skin, please. Yesterday
stall on the course before it is presented to a birthday party (peers at last) and its expression was forced to a press release at all discrete choice of boredom in the closet. Gas puffing tobacco, as if boredom was the prerogative of adults only, than to be attained as soon as the first shots drowned cigarette today and tomorrow virginity.
Aurora has big eyes, hypnotic and immature. Parted lips even if closed. Yesterday would honor its devoted girlfriends (a circle of peers over which it exercises a delicate charm reckless and haughty: ambassador of pre-adolescence in the temples of adults, Aurora), a skirt to lose balance and sense of limits. ALTERED, how much malice and perversion by Nabokov also confusing (or perhaps to make him vomit) if only he could.
Entering the charts of The Hole at 13 and sip the greetings and pull the wait. Mine too. Thirteen years. Damn. It is rhetoric that beauty did not register, but the aesthetic semiotics (ah ah) erotica dovrebbero imporre limiti d’età; un calmiere sociale contro la concorrenza spietata e una festa di primavera ufficiale con rito d’iniziazione all’età adulta. Censura… si impone censura a interni coscia e labbra di sospiri e palpebre pulsanti e fianchi di burro e cuscinetti di fiore.
Barba in barba bà bà ballè chè la meraviglia di Aurora è tremenda. Salutami.
“È la mia lettera d’amore se ti basta. Tu ti basti.”
(Erik Chilly)
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