My Inspiration In Life

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Poison Ivy

Poison Ivy 74% Apocalypse 65% Venom 60% Dark Phoenix 60% Catwoman 59% Mystique 56% The Joker 50% Magneto 45% Mr. Freeze 44% Riddler 43% Dr. Doom 39% Juggernaut 36% Two-Face 36% Lex Luthor 34% Green Goblin 28% Kingpin 26%

Would You go to Almost Any length pour la Protection of the Environment Including handling and disposal.

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Buggy Frame Blueprint

Coup in mind, and "ouch!" pride adored.

I sigh when I see the turn of the toy store the street at the end of which stands the church. I always loved to come here, I always imagine that this piece of street wedged between a bar and three stores is a red carpet and the church my Elysium.

And I am what we see.
Or what you should look.

My bag is heavy, the straps hanging on my shoulders and the heavy weight on my back gives me a sore neck.

I pass the church and perceive the white buildings, impersonal high school. A small crowd scattered in front. My eyes stopped on a silhouette standing out from this mass of people. My eyes remain on the long form male, wearing a long coat in black fabric. I walk into my high school and not, like my heart, accelerated to reach the height of the small group in which the figure seems to stand out.

He and his "groupies" as I call them. Him and Her.

Him and Them: his intense dark eyes, long eyelashes, put on face of a sad young man in white skin. Totally opposed to the Other. That's the idea that I would of elegance and strength, night and day. However I have a clear tendency to be attracted by this indolent pride, by the increased pace of these steps mimic the frequency of the bell of the city. One seems born of the delicacy, while the other seems carved from the rock: hard and reassuring.

I continued my way down the stairs, looking down and admiring the girls talking animatedly. He speaks little. But his voice remains resting on my ears. A breath of air on the mind. Amid this cacophony universal. But suddenly

I stop. They share it with the left, while I went to the right. But there is one, not in my class. I head to the blue sheet of the schedule adhered to the door. But before I read, the reality hit me.

This is not the course I had.

Best Dresing Game 2009

Coup de ras-le-bol.

This title is very descriptive and also vindictive.

Ras-le-bol or ras-le-c ** to be less polite. Honestly I feel like a huge school bag in which one tries to bake as much books as possible. But then the bag is fed up and lets out a yell to some teachers or to the Department if it's his fault.

You know that in other countries some people our age we complain because we bossons all day? Them they bossent morning and afternoon they play sports or go to small Boulos. I think it is the only country to have schedules as ruthless. I do not think a special case when I say that sometimes I get tired ... completely and irrevocably With more work to do!

They take us for machines or what? Yes to education and knowledge, there is nothing that I revere most. I love everything about school. Its social aspect, even if sometimes it would happen some morons that inhabit them. Its friendly aspect to some of us. And so on. But then I cracked.

Needless faloir that I negotiate with my father to get an exemption to miss the hour of swimming with the class, then that's what I love most in the week! All that work for two hours continuously.

The bag has frayed seams that it will crack and books, fine books and fine pens will be spread on the floor in a "splach" very little discretion.




(image found on another blog, not me.)