Goldfish White Spot On Head

Berlin sky a deep breath and plunges

I receive more letters to write Chevrotte. She's gone. She also wrote little bits of his life in his notebook.

I'm here all alone. I let the tears here and there on the shoulders of relatives and people. I tried an empty tirade in the house of God. Flowers.

ago he, she, in the same pit. I jumped from the branch. My wings are broken. It hurts. Learn to fly?