Carmela, the whore of my neighbor, not because she is, if not ownership of the intellectual word that's all about enjoying the whore, his whore and bitch no more.
Surrender were the eyes of the gentleman, that gentleman walking with a heart sewn to hear such a title deed and the letter that almost no one could explain how well they can and can that That is, the questions were marked on her breast and a breeze to soul wonder: Is it true that Carmela is a whore, Like going to be a whore and his whore and a bitch is not anyone else?, then bitch if I married her!, when I finish thinking I realized that I hear scream and Carmela and cry.
Days a magical wish to mourn, to call and say sorry, but never did so, Carmela was not a bitch, was not nobody's bitch whore but if no one else.
Years after striking a bus stop slightly crossed eyes but nothing happened, they crossed their hearts and stood in a hotel making love.
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