Phenylpropalonamine Fenilpropalonamina or where do the memories?
One of those days that many do not seem very important and do not even keep a blade in his memory, one of those days for many a door to a vivid world, one of those days for many is a starting point a warm note. How can it be that for many does not mean anything?
One August afternoon, the wind carried the heat of summer, the patio radiant and full of that warmth and inviting lazy to do nothing. One afternoon they seem to say nothing, I found the head of my mother her first gray hair. Today, it seems that is an erratic history, without a veil or with many veils. Unveiled in concept and with many then because I could not describe the days until today. Maybe other days were interspersed with the importance and listlessness.
and was taped to the sewing machine. Is the film more interesting, more lively, a kind of ritual since that day has been remembering that moment. Yet for those who do not know the history of my mother's first gray hair does not mean anything.
The memories enslave us, how much happiness or sadness. That power so tremendous, science gives us and we collapsed. Remember the smell of the first school backpack and the pencils and the new book and a reader. That puts me in a safe, when the illusion the first day of school, I scored every hour of the night.
memories warm, aromatic. The others did not, why, why say no ... And if there is, the sad, bad experiences, that you want to delete but it gives you "experience" and when you open your eyes one more day will not see sense but remain.
After several years of a second, when the chest of memories and nobody breaks are, will not be worth anything, then I would have left both paid and Serrat's song, for shade no matter who feels it knows that does.
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