It looks like it, she does not know how but he is like him.
He, 20 years barely out of adolescence.
They two met in a creative workshop songs, Les Dents du Midi their smile, this is the opportunity to decline any shield
She puts her hand on her hip and the meeting is an invitation to disaster. A fear, as a vertical laspire dizziness, in the whirlwind of desire.
This hand on hip, opens the appetite.
She is hungry for him.
Saliva him.
She wants to consume.
Lavaler.
Devour without pause.
Without concession.
Binge to lose reason.
Dadolescent his hands, she feels a woman, she is a woman for the first time in his life; a woman who wants
It is the organization of the prototype. Yet in his head, this is chaos. The past and the future, in their most trivial nooks parasitize its present. , Will be, was sentremêlent incessantly. This is to ny understand.
But you get in Dove, Melanie Richoz, narrates this destructive passion between him and Rose.
A short text, just the words it takes. A phrase or a word and then a point and line.
A beautiful feather, unadorned, to go straight to the point, so that the words touch where it's needed. She and attended him at a design studio songs, Melanie offers its readers the words to music for takeaway
No need to say den, if you have an hour before you read Dove.
Point.
At the line.