Friday, January 28, 2011

Fastest Growing Vegetable From Seed

Life is a picnic


M a mouth is an organ of understanding. He takes things from the outside in and brings things from the inside out again. Mist hanging in front of their mouths. What I have to give except water and air? Warm inside, always wet, rarely dry, never actually. feels in the mouth on security. He knows more than me. I want him to ask. D ie pencil lead, the paint and the wood influence their taste in my memory like the teeth of their tracks in the water-based paint. If the wood swells from their own saliva, then it tastes a little to me. What is more salty and the inner surface of my left hand while the right to paint in the heart of school hours. The mouth remembers her taste in the hours towards the end of the school day. Life is a picnic. snow is twice as valuable, if E. costs him. Icicles hang like a sweet promise under the eaves and from far too high and lanterns all at ground level in car bodies. Life. Some days tastes bitter cream and chocolate stick between tongue and palate. No thought of roses, and nausea in any attempt to grasp a thought. Childhood. ban signs on the way to my mouth, two or more of my lips like the stickers on boxes: No advertising please! Wool, sand, and the horse from the board, the white farmers and the black queen will spit out reluctantly. Only enter what is edible, then it's eat! Swallow! Down with it! The mouth does not fight back. He bites his teeth together, then possibly his own tongue tip is in between, or a piece of your own cheek. D he close his mouth lips against anything that may not go. Even in the opposite direction are signs and billboards. Do not shout. chew with your mouth closed. Do not sing before seven. Wines without this tone. No banned words to say. Furthermore, we do not talk in our family. That remains among us. Especially not cry. scenario. is a plaster over his mouth - the dressing can do with the child for nine years himself. Only in the nutrition we need to help him. But to this, the patch will stay where it is. The tube for gastric tube, we introduce through the nose. Life is a picnic. The truth is bitter irony or positive affirmation? Only the lips are visible. Attached to them a sugar? They are very narrow, by successive presses himself. Perhaps it is that again highlighted the tongue, wegzuschlecken to the sugar. Perhaps it prohibits it. The teeth are well hidden. In the pine sits the anger. The tongue is even words, but it is still on the palate up and air can not escape. The mouth that does not lick more sugar is a ticking bomb. If I open it now, then it makes sense? fear. The fact that the words of control, articulated poorly on such that the teeth are indiscriminate and bite in my area, that nothing is enough to fill the now open maw that I'm bottomless, that I can not get anything in the world, nothing what is good. depression. If he no longer opens up, his mouth. No cry is expected to the tears do not flow, and therefore to be hoped no sobs, the thin lip barrier could also make it tremble. The sweetness anyone can achieve more, the link is missing inside.

sweetness and bitterness - it is inevitable to experience both. I can speak of happiness, everything in me recover. It allow to taste the bitterness felt the pain in me - to keep the connection. The sweetness, the long-lost flavor, recover.


"My mouth is a grave for chickens and flies." Hester mouth frog and references therein. n. a mayfly, who wishes to remain anonymous.

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