Bloatedness From Inguinal Hernia Surgery

"Tales from the neighborhood," Masha Kirikova (V)

about the Earth-worm ( series "Stories of the Neighbourhood" ) of Masha Kirikova (All rights reserved)

About Worm

The Earthworms are animals with a hard target. They need to eat dirt and shit all day long from morning to night.

The first thing-worm children need to learn from his Mama and his Papa Worm-Worm is how to find the safest part of the trail and twist forward.

Kirikova Masha
(translated and distributed with permission from the author)

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Metamorphosis.


Freedom to give my body to genuine transformation.

Free!

What a wonderful aroma of freedom I breathe!.

be free to extend my arms, close my eyes and give this body that resembles anything to me, that does not follow my footsteps adventurers and that makes me weak and strong in a glaring unison.

That does not fall apart with feelings and the meat defeat disease. What foolishness this body that does not reach you!

you crave endless sea walk and scream your name!, I have wanted to move the still water with my hands and float them in a state of spiritual enlargement bigger than me, bigger than you .. .

I can give my pain to the winds and tear on your chest out. You're

sublime to me. My magic has brought you regardless of your will.

I feel small and insignificant ... A small snake ennublecida majesty, which becomes giant sliding through your skin: From your neck warm contemporary ecstatic birth, I lost in the contour of your breasts medieval must be the work of God, go around your waist that is something surreal Renaissance and hips give way infinite softness to your haughty legs.

Low, low, low ... Lower than hell itself, lower than the fire is not eternal without your eyes and beneath your feet aphrodisiac find at last my land. My land, my home.

life

waves enough to return me to be myself. To look from the humidity of my roots. An absurd nudity keeps me anchored to the floor, delighting you. I do not know time or space, not if they are years, centuries, lives, or seconds with my eyes I feel of exiles, but that does not matter. I look, I think, desire, feed me ... you live!

Women Will You Let Male Give You Wax?

was the Catalina ... (8)

That nostalgia remember this song! It was so young when I played with a friend at school ... I have already had about 12 or 13 years, but the memories that come to mind are so full of innocent magic, I could not just pass this rediscovery of the past.

remember my friend Camilla, with whom he played during recess at this game ... I remember not talk to her long ago. We forget moments and people. We are growing and letting go those things that made us smile.

was the Catalina

Sitting under a laurel

Looking the freshness

of water falling

Suddenly a soldier step

And he did stop

"Stop you

soldier a question you want to do"

"You have seen my husband

ever in the war?"

"I have not seen her husband

Nor who is"

"My husband is tall and blond

and handsome as you

And at the tip of his sword takes

written San Andres "

From the data given to me

Her husband is dead

And I left that

me to marry you.

Now that I do

Now that I will not

I waited seven years

and wait seven

If

fourteen is not

A convent I'll

And my two daughters

take with me

And my two sons

to deliver home

Hush, hush, Catherine

Hush, hush once

're talking to your husband

recognize That you did not know ...

So ends this story

of an unhappy woman

he was talking to her husband

and could not recognize ...

Triangle Design With Wax

Like a butterfly / (Ser object)

Mariana in the South, John William Waterhouse

She referred to in languid movements, the dark hair and white skin, beauty botticelliana passed by the complacency of a Burne-Jones, eyes open, hands and breath drops suicide while looking in the mirror. Would not it be a beautiful object, smoothed her hair or garment with a tie, pale makeup and dark circles marked: and black eyes and pink mouth, set a brace and wrapped in a flowing gown, like a butterfly perched on a stool, and never look directly into the eyes of men?

L-tyrosine And Prolactin

"Girl Wandering" [Gabriela Mistral - Letters to Doris Dana]

I know that nobody, no person in this world, you know what it is our life, but (except) ourselves.

our life Beauty is so imperceptible, so delicate, full of imponderables, which almost can not see it. You may only live, thank God.

I live in a kind of dream, remembering all the graces that I have done.

And what is living a new life, a life that I have always sought and never found. It is a sacred thing and concentrated.

Life without you is something no blood, no reason. You are [my house] , my home, yourself. With you is my heart.

(And just love me purified). She is the abandonment, complete confidence.

I know you are faithful like a stone.

My memory is now a world becomes a universe vast and comprehensive. And while incomplete, because it has grown so much but could not seem to grow larger.

Oh, serious love so sweet, so no weight at once. My Joy!

[This text corresponds to a document much appreciated by Doris Dana, who kept it until the end of his days in a safe].