"It is a book of magic" said the potter who tended to me and lent it to me to read a book who had enchanted so that had marked another loan shortly before by me "A little death on the face "by Gabriel Ringlet. Gasped: "He was there" say - I, wanting to talk to JC. There, in the space between my body and the end of the extended arm, the book. "He writes well Ringlet" replied the potter. Write and read. And magic? The magic - CAR was to be when I decided to read it DISAPPEARED. The kiss is - so so small ... ? I ordered one, nine, so what went on receipt and bring it right away. Knows - we never! I can not say anything else. When I find him, I tell you.
