Mirena Causes Metallic Taste

Dialogue with a piece of metal

The boy came down the hill of the spirits inficchiti and went to the very limits of human domination,

the cliffs and the sea lapping want.

gazes so absorbed in the waves spill over again,

the boy drew his knife and began to observe it.

Here, flawless weapon: you are in my hand like the grain on the stem of wheat. How perfect t'han made the cut, injury, how much you hurt me too, that while t'uso for pure defense. It makes sense to take you with me yet?

I traveled a lot of shoes with your weight on your belt, and always the bearer of light and I felt safe. And then I realize, I fear. Light was your usage and the implication of who jokingly Rising up liquid emotion.

You are my daughter and also my companion: what if a great comfort to me about just show me how to make you useful to the void on which we have to walk. But if I look at you, I speak to you, just answer me a reflection of my past mistakes, murky blasphemy, of an imaginary force.

And so for days, the boy stood on the cliff to look coldly reflected in his memories.
When he raised his decision was made. The sword floated on the waves in a large blow back to the safety of his sheath, and the steps the child took the way back.

Snowboard Seriennummer

Scarrabbecci

Entering the land of men is not uncommon to see the stony hills. If you retract them potran you notice some strange facts. As the world of deceit, in the fields, is dominated by a roaring buzz on the hills do not hear nothing but the whistling of the wind. And while nothing is moving on of them: rock and loneliness are only a few feet high human decadence to be caressed the darkness from the sky. What is this oasis of stillness, which is nestled among the rocks, your strange hill? Question absorbed the young traveler, and an old man replied, from his throne of rock. What you see now is stone tortured by hordes nothing thinking, air and time. But once these stones were ideals that were running free in the streets of the world. There were those who managed to ride them for a good stretch ... died, burned with passion, or fell defeated, but they did so with a smile and were happy with their lives. What remains now? You see yourself, my dear child: we are here to remember old and the rest over there to die.