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WALKING AROUND THE DARJEELING LIMITED

Photography and design by: Poliphonia Cassel

Dffuse Maculopapular Rash,

Theory oblivion is not the time yet ...

comes a point in life for all, or most where are you planning to do in the coming years, those in which commercials noodles as you should be happy, married with 2 children, then perhaps a more obedient dog to your children. Some say that this stage is crossed near or apart from the 30, but it is relative because a few decades ago was several years earlier.

The issue is as follows. You feel Chibolo, you keep walking in slippers 24 / 7, still sucking all weekend, still with the guy who common sense tells you never get what you see in commercials or are you still with that girl that everyone tells you is not "wife material."

I'm the kind of people who never saw in that picture, she does not marry or have dreamed a thousand children, they played to moms, but I think the idea never went beyond the plastic doll then leave lying on every corner.

ventiregulares Today my years I still do not idealize the notion of having children and without hallucinations in white dress and saying "I do ". I is an idea so gaseous that would not even know where to begin to hallucinate.

few days ago I remembered that when I was a little girl crying with my dad and said "Daddy does not want to grow up I want to be girl forever" and start to think that I'm still that little girl even though the ID is determined to tell me otherwise.

ago very little cross my mind the idea of \u200b\u200bperhaps having a child someday. To me this is a gigantic step forward because my life plan has never included a baby, someone to share my years of age but no children (I honestly believe that I have no maternal instincts and to enterqué me to say that this does not exist but my susceptibility wounded claims so I decided to just say, ok ok then there is in me.)

Anyway, the idea is still very vague but at least it is completely pulled me by the hair, when you talk to someone, 90% of the time I listen to classical, will be different when you fall in love. In my life I've fallen 2 times, once from someone who wanted all that and the other from someone who did not even stop to think about it, my position was almost the same in both cases with the exception of small forward said. I do not know if progress is proportional to the degree of infatuation, no idea, only time will tell.

Ya inches (very few) the idea of \u200b\u200bdecorating a house with a partner and think about family budgets is no longer impossible to become a likely future scenario and I have to say that I like.

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Travel O DARJEELING, as he majored in English. With impeccable performances by Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody and Jason Schwartzman, in a ' American Empirical picture' of WES ANDERSON.

is, without doubt Mandarin, the best movie I've seen so far this year. Soulish, humorous, amazing photography, script of all the heavens, and an amazing soundtrack which is home to the most perfect film.

Pure Genius!

Well as long it did not say: You have a day decently happy (no accent) or not so miserable opal.

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TO MY AFFECTION BANDA DE Hikuri

course about The Hounds, a band of my affection and I owe with love and devotion, and what ... haha! They are present (to all of you dear readers):

Edwin Allan Poe (Petit Vincent)

Cho La Maga Babas (apple of my eye)

Mely Arkadia Acorn (beggar my eyes and small pony)

Grupy Ed * 1 (the best baker in the world * 2)

I simply (and matted Cass'ualidad Poliphonia rock / alternative)

Well Now I leave here, the song that one day we dedicated the Maga. It is without doubt a song that whenever we see (the Hounds), sounds in our hearts ... or something. THE LOVE !!!!! HART'AZGO

UFF. WHAT Scheherazade

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I ro

[After all that thinking and reasoning, if I may, I just want to mourn].



I mourn the Pacific, Atlantic and my jug of water until my pillow is a time.


I mourn a kilo of salt. Mourn to bleed. Mourn to cure my small but infamous heridillas.


I mourn as if it were newly born, mourn, mourn to forget what it means to the pronunciation of that word

Llo Llo-rar-rar-rar Llo

cry me a blue tulle dress, a meter and the miles that separate me from them, myself. Fa Mi Do Re Sol If Yo-rar. You-rar. He-rar.


[After all the tearful experience irraciocinia, if I may, just want to say:

rennet, rennet, rennet

rennet, rennet, rennet, rennet

rennet rennet rennet rennet rennet]

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Cracks are ground screaming as
scholarship that covers my hands I
inflected post my eyes do not understand their knees
Meeting blood-lying hairs-clear
ESTASSONLASCOSASQUESUCEDENCUANDOVIENE
The thirty-four reflection

Rimsky-Korsakov attacking the
Risa, looking at my face clean
Lying far as the rows
of colors in Rome
where I then said in a serious tone
(In a serious tone)
"Dear, why you rolled up the sweater
small?


Rimskyto I love that I ask questions
Schools and love in the spring
Forests soup hear music
When deceive unsuspecting deer
Poor deer! Eared vulture and Languages \u200b\u200b
fox
ESTASSONLASCOSASQUESUCEDENCUANDOVIENE
quadrant Orgasm eighty-two minutes


Nothing! Robertito in the pool of apple hates
Robertito routine, sex and sandals
No! 'Comanishi' leaps and jumps
(My name is brain, call me tired)
ESTASSONLASCOSASQUESUCEDENCUANDOVIENE
The conditional Bill overseas

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is early winter morning one of those wet, cold and overcast in Lima before 7am. There are no people at home "Mom, Dad?" no answer, everyone has gone, so alone again between breakfast bread crumbs sprinkled across the table, the dirty butter knife and half cups of coffee left by them.
enlisted with his eyes still closed to go to college and I wear any sweater absolutely any scarf. For a change I go out toward the whereabouts looking like a homeless. Soil
throw me classes from 8 am to continue sleeping or fooling around in the cafeteria of the university, but today I have a practice or something and I have no choice. The car is slow and infirm to my whereabouts, the morning is quiet, I think I very early because I see almost no people.

I look at the sides to cross. All clear. Crossed quiet. A few steps to reach the sidewalk in front of me distracted looking at my reflection in the glass mirrored greenish tone and a vegetarian restaurant and unconsciously slowed. I think something in the air that has this gloomy scene, a figure that does not distinguish between male and female among the many discordant rags, walking down an empty street and foggy super low, almost hallucinating me one morning in London until a loud horn me does regain the attention and notice the unusually large and bright bus that comes over me.

My heart stops and my legs did not respond but he made too much effort to respond and give a couple of strides up the sidewalk. I see the moons of retaurant deformed away the reflection that something big and bright bus makes milliseconds wild rose at a rate holding my breath in shock.

must sit on a wall to hold my legs shake and catch your breath.

That's enough, I remember that I have practice and continuing on with my day.

I'm late, get over it took me more than previously thought. I go, I feel the back of the room almost empty and solve the road waiting for me already in the folder. Fast finish so I leave my practice on the desktop and I retire. I'm going to the cafeteria to make time but is full and I can not get assistance. I call my mom but no interference and we can not speak for more cries I give. Whom I have yet to tell my experience of life and death.

The review in my head several times and test the most amazing way of telling. All the lethargy in the morning is gone, I suddenly feel inspired, energized and eager to do many things, but I'll start tomorrow because I have felt like going home.

Besides the cafeteria, the rest of the faculty is something desolate and poor people there are altered note, every whisper. Thinking seems to go on my morning adventure, I miss something interesting. Curiosity wins me and start talking and find out where the other students, I follow the noise of people and get to the street. There are all crowded. Again, drama, and some some since school started, a couple of steals, a couple of crashes and a couple of violations. The

today seem serious, there are more police on other occasions. Yes, another outrage, was a student distracted the usually pedestrian to blame say, poor thing, I think that very little could have been me.

I'm not so morbid that I get to soak the gossip, just try to hear something out there to at least know who but no distinction is good information from many voices. Suddenly the noise began to get heated and becomes deafening and annoying. I lurched forward among the people, want to leave here as I think "string of patients, only care about blood."

The tumult and instead confuses me get away from the scene to me about it let me stop a few meters from a bus big and bright, let me stop a few inches from the body of the poor unfortunate, let me stop a few steps myself.

PS Yes, it was a dream, some time ago, so it ends abruptly, with me in front of me (although it sounds pointless)

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Vashti SONG AND ONLY THAT (LOVE LOST FIVE SECONDS UNDER A FLYING BED, I WANT TO MOURN A BIT OF BUNYAN)

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A SIMPLE GIFT TO THE GREAT POET DU LAC (and only because I've noticed that you like these red aparatejos)

[If you like , do not tell me

If you do not, lie to

Then

Another Monday afternoon

will send up the skies

(your sky)

With smiling particles 3D]

[And no, there were]

[Sleeping in the vessel]

[china ]

[Ha!]

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Entre-Post (He said Mejer)

days I have no dreams in this capsule. I have the height. The arm of land that stretched to the lunar atmosphere. There's a pain no longer hurts. The cloud is a weak philosophical opinion. The philosopher who suffer from insomnia. Of having a stomach full of ants. - Mejer C.

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LETTERS ARE SOMETIMES ONLY IDIOTS, JUST WANT TO SLEEP SOMETIMES

And after seven, spilled wine on the tables that could be the gender of the ceilings. Nobody notices. Alcoholic odor spreads a cloth fibers embarrassed. "It also hurts that never existed why it hurts it hurts?" Think, and remember the lyrics to Mejer, can not remember right now. It all seems confusing, it seems all of slime. And then that damn poem that goes: Our breaths are like / to the vultures / a crocodile tears / cynical / us what we should be / in a crazy world. / Crazy as éste. / We are vultures / ridicule of evil men / we all / less people buena-mala-idiota./Somos the vile imitation of the ancients. And the breath persists. Yet. / We are so . That was so ago ...

[score not to blame.,,, We win! Rolen ¡,,..¿.; their oars.!. Sons of Zeus ,,,.,.,; ...]

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MERMAID GOT \u200b\u200bMILK? WASTED POST ^

Drawing Poliphonial that has nothing about 'got milk' or with '? " and with this post ... sorry.

From quiet to

hopscotch

disapproving glances

Singing an old song With

voices reach God

Who God? Two

God How God? SI / BU

TRA / TRA

MI / NA