Lie lie.

Makes sense in northern climates people are losing their gloves.

Yan always forgot his umbrella.

I mean the mother of that house knew by heart every object going in or out. New stuff always got her attention.

I grew up in fiction.

What the rest called lying.

There lied my true desires.

Father lived in Germany and had 4 more kids with another woman.

I would like to focus on my collection of death notices.

Or in the brief history of objects.

Or why I have total lack of smell.

Or why I ended up hating deodorants.

But I have to work at some point.

Maybe if someone told me that I should my own father, that would have helped.

Παράθυρα Λογοτεχνίας για Νέους

Intellectum 10