Alaric:" The Whore " to walk in a dark alley aveo desire, that at times overshadowed the nights are silent desire, when fate led her to the lady before me sloppy, the appearance is poor, sweet but finally, he had great eyes and black hair, his hands of parish priest, that white skin with tremulous cingea dedication luma moon of his back and reached us with his cautious pace so little revealed, and yet I smile came to my mind is clear that radiated every dark corner. noblewoman certainly not smiling through, it indicates a straight woman, with an inviting look, I left home, his art reveals that there was some occurrence. I stayed for a little silent, gazing at her rosy lips and its uncertain expression, caressing flattery wrapped ... Its delicate appearance than the moon, selfish, did not show it clearly, perhaps to free up space in my thinking, and his face was as snowy hill, which spreads around in white gloss; Her eyes like the breeze that suddenly without t'avvolge site which offered shelter, his voice like a caress, allure me, I rocked her, burned with my cravings, without illusion, without a hidden purpose, without lying project. And I smile at her mirror, pleased at his invitation reception, his humble abode my mattress, its scent of my world in those moments of true passion, immoral aspect for the public thought, I found it sincere comfort who lost all shadow of remembrance, of Quito desire. Then, in the way to my bed, while I sought moon with severe look, aveo to mind a question: What is , a prostitute, then the true aspect ... that of one who gives his grace for little money ... or those who can only barter with adulterated promise? Alaric
Alaric:" We two boys " was happy in the morning when that sun was filed by the sparse clouds, cool air of October, as mild stroke, m'avvolgea, I seat above the rock, gazing at source drops of gushing face of this concert and never seemed tediata. In silent moments blesses me, that sometimes nobody restless murmur of nature, when two boys came running, boy was up to my chest, straight hair and watchful eyes, her smile was like the sun, at sunset when all sky hugs his little wooden hands brandivan as a sword, which s'atteggiava as if, with such formidable weapon, could defy the world, small companion of fortune had below, had two large eyes and soft of speech do not see that to describe, long hair in braids collected, which d 'in comparison to her hair seemed to be giant and its fragile little body appeared to me, my heart ch'in do nothing but fear for its delicate appearance. Of their playful busy m'incantai, which became an instant old vessel trunk, leaf, fingers firmly supported by minute, as if he were caught wind sailing, shake hands made of spring water storm, storm surge came so strong that splashing came up to me and my smile greeted her happy. Then they realized, and their fear of me with my eyes did meet, but the heart of a child slightly goodness knows, now that peace returned in their face, the boy remained silent, with his fierce sword in hand, little hand came around and pulled out of her dress, I do not know what the secret pocket, a small daisy and handed it to me without uttering a speech, but with a smile that made the story a thousand words, I thanked him for that precious treasure, they looked away, leaping as crickets, proud captain and his companion in arms, until it disappears by magic, of an old door and swallowed up in loving arms welcomed. miravo And meanwhile the flower worn, I tried to imagine whether there was in him more Codest world jewel shining jewel that was worth more, but I found nothing. The rest time between my writing, in words sincere hope that the company and were pleased him, to them, naive feeling of inspiration, so it was that I became a rich treasure is eternal guardian. Alaric
Alaric:" Birth " was a quiet spring morning, the kind that rains but little interest at all, home is more welcoming and set tables are always friendly hostel. breeze was absent and rooftop water drummed soothing lullaby, so very few recognize a new infant, wrinkled and screaming, dazzled by the world of breast pain and bleeding, yet it spolmonava besieged by loving arms and caressing eyes. hot sprinkled in a soft cloth wrapped, waiting. That sometimes your name is inherited, others pledge, Or else comes from casual pace of events, I was whispered by the wind, that that day he decided to sospinger words, rather than clouds, like he did three times and my breath was Alaric. ch'anche So I was the son of wind, made him a free spirit, phlegm and laconic habit of littering leaves.
