Raven Riley 2010 Fleshlight Raven Riley?

and nothing can stop it. Spend hours and days and years and I keep moving in ever-increasing spiral, but all around the same axis. ILU and I admit, because I know that it did nothing to deny.
I do not regret knowing you have it. Because I never had. It is impossible, as is also impossible to have me, and that is what unites us and makes us infinite on the vastness. Who needs to have something, when you can visit every day and return to surprise with every detail that was lost the day before? is much more exciting. THAT is what no one else can understand. No, people do not understand.
'm gonna try big city to get over you:)

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Light That

After wiping out all seems lost, but the others know they are not gone, but has returned to where it has always belonged: inevitably came back catch him and returned to find you, bringing with him the old ashes that once you let them do to you. And again to blow inside you until you feel being Freezing the bowels, the a lm ay hands and harass you until you feel that nothing is worth it. And finally, very very end, when there is more resistance than enough, you realize that always better to let it go:).

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A poem for Berta Piñán

S / T. From the series "Book of Mathematics" E. Muntañola

BURN NUECHE

nueches d'insomniacs are nueches
burning them. Closer

death and life nesta expected
most violent night and discover
qu'enciende deseyos promises

CERTEC passing fire. Nel fueu Prende'l
air like a party atmosphere
or war, sew
qu'un moment and are nothing happen instantly. Nunes
hores we left behind what we are being nel
and will air as an air
d'urxencia,
of VEZOS you just may learn well lluego
forget. Naide
nun never Durme
nueches nas da burn. As a lover eager

the miedra na Llapa that consumes
nueche nueche remémbranos
and what we were being
: smoke NAMAS
and ash.

E ste poem Nueche burning "(" Night of Fire "in Castilian), belongs to book - an anthology of Berta Piñán "Nights of Fire. (1985-2002)" published by Trea, Gijón, 2005.

NIGHT OF FIRE

sleepless nights are the nights

fire.

Closer death and

life, the more violent in this waiting

night that ignites desire and discover

promises

certainties passing

burning. Turn

fire in the air like a party atmosphere

or war, things that a moment

happen and are nothing instantly.

Within hours we passed what we

and is staying in the air

as an air of urgency,

just learned gestures

and soon forgotten.

Nobody ever sleeps

fire at night.

As an eager lover,

calls on the night grows

night consumes

and reminds us what we were

being: Only smoke.

and ash.

(Translation Piñán Berta)

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A poem by Xosé Bolado

S / T (Fragment) Mixed on canvas. E. Muntañola

OF WORDS IN

was a pity that you want to search for life,
so late, in a country to inclináu ocasu, but
solo'l for anchor drag intentu of densities,
d'Asomati the verb without complicidaes,
diome'l xuiciu pa see estimated tree wants to grow
Cabu house, a collar guey d'viaxeru
that pasu, contemplare'l in volume,
it under color mortecina,
although the foot-and surdan les springs, the
n'intentos llamiare spans the tropical forest in the afternoon
líviernu confusing.

You know, NAMAS date pueo hand
perhaps think
you, life goes on as weighing one:
the way for the tiempu Perdiu
of becoming tame in two words, while cabruñe'l
sun
filu de les hores l'air solanu
and squint the canciella ... Basta'l
vuelu In short,
perdebaxo earth. Poem

belonging to Bolado Xosé book "Na the relay station", ed. Book of the pexe, Gijón, 2006.

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Some notes of movement "different" ...

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in this post I add a slideshow of a series of drawings of human body movements did long ago, of course the formal result is different from a fixed pose.

To view the pictures one by one click on "view all photos."