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They looked so serious when they came from the shed. My boys, my tiny friends - or so I hoped - not that tiny anymore.

One by one I lured those guys into the shed, talking about an issue I needed help with just to shove one of those slimy, black, tentacled vreatures into their mouths the moment I had the chance to, watching them struggle with widening eyes until they went blank in an instant. There must have been some kind of sedative involved.

And one bye one I dragged them in the second room of the shed. Seeing more and more of those hunky dudes side mye side, unconscious with the occational twitch was fascinating, arousing even, the thought of having them as my companions

But it would take a moment for them to be taken over. This much I was told, communicated when I touched those creatures before.

So I waited, lingered near the shed, watched them. It took hours.

"Questo è il mio rifugio, dove la natura racconta ciò che le parole non possono dire."

orvallo

pel cantando como campá de onda

Amor e negación para nunca ser aberta unidade ou equivoco? disputámonos o poema enchemos os ollos de libros e terra deses feitos danza do desexo ese incendio de beixos e humidade amamos toleando nesa cólera do amor sen mans nin escudo de boca enramallada tanto podemos navegar sen porto nin dubida pinga a pinga da carne namorada sen elos nin ecos

you've heard about the benefits of eating raw food, why not try publishing a raw* novel?

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