I remember that in my childhood I was bought a very beautiful plastic rifle with a plug. A tight cork and a strong spring.
What happened was that it fell behind the giant wardrobe in our house . This means that it was lost forever after only one day of use.
I cried like the widows of legends did not cry, and I slept miserable and heavy-hearted.
I was nine at the time.
At the age of thirty, I began the process of moving from my home.
The carpentry came to dismantle this storage, here, here I was brought in the lever, it was removed from the back of the storage, covered with dust and tissue of the cabinet, as if it were to explode in the male sea.
My heart sank and I felt the same way I felt on the day of sexual intercourse when I touched her. That was 21 years ago.
If I had not held myself together, I would have run with her around the apartment, and I would have been right To the carpenter, making funny noises with my mouth 馃槀馃槀馃槀
