Rest assured that I will not congratulate Christmas. I commend it to the shopping centers that continue to send their best wishes, but who were pleased with them? Nobody. Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations, happy, happy, happiness. Go embarrassment.
sensualist
This time we will bring some gritty and proclaims: I regret having glorified the sadness, melancholy and even depression. One has been recreated too be wrong.
The chorus says, "So sad, so sad." More or less: "How sad, how sad "
As we usually blame the other, I'm going to take the world of Arts, both major and minor. There are wonderful songs that praise the state of abandonment. There are films that master, directly or indirectly, call for following a dismal life. There are images that provoke desolation.
The black combines however, can be provided either: it is truly fascinating. I speak mainly clothing, but also the arts. Catholic priests wore black because it symbolizes wisdom. The sensualist has worn a lot of this color. However, the black is a color but, alas, the denial of this. Sorry to disappoint ... I do not speak either of works in which the penurria protagonist is a-pun intended- bad feeling own songwriters and people who are not attractively arranged. I talk about work well done, beautiful, meticulous and brilliant. That is, full of beauty. But there is something ...
This Mr. Rothko's what I call A bellezón
sure you prefer the version of Billie Holliday this gem ...
I speak, therefore, Claims. Or the loss. Now I can call if they feel better Gothic. Sometimes I see its look as irresistible, but I refer to the appointment that is included below.
This group had a song named "Plunged into depression"
One thing is The Moral , which sounds very moralistic and very old. Pay attention: P roust and Celine are the greatest writers of the twentieth century, but the hate. MEETING THE IMMORAL, are pro-death-suicide in Saint-Exupéry, and I'm A MORAL WRITER (...). N or write romances. But most do ja apology for the death. My novels are , however, praise of life. In Proust, Celine, everything is regrettable. I think you can feel curiosity even in death, but the admiration and curiosity is the best that life provides. ( Michel Tournier )
Whatever he says that the sensualist, the song still seems a wonder
few years ago I realized the obvious: what is comfortable is without feeling sad. Not worth it. This is not to be happy, but doing everything possible to be happy. No praise is Christmas, but leaving to pursue welfare, if necessary, to a region of the planet where the holiday is not celebrated with stupidity.
I repent of worshiping the sadness in thought, word omissions, and in other ways truly painful.
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