At first I advise you to listen here Chi Mai from Ennio Morricone to put you in the mood. Sorry my blog but refuses to integrate music directly!
Imagine ... there was more laughter of children
Imagine ... a lowering sky sheep (not kidding I am looking rhymes with "year")
Imagine ..... a cold wind rolling over my tights (hi, hi, j'vous've been well, I is not even!)
Imagine ... skies, a few drops of rain falling (then I just amazes me!)
Imagine .... disfigured my beautiful garden with a gaping hole
Imagine .... Mr. Muscari
A man (my man, but not!)
Fort (Mmmmmh)
Beau (OUAhhhhhhhh)
Tender (not like the leek Miss Twig eh?)
crying bitterly on the pool, OUR fucking shit pool of my 2 (Wow, I j'm'égare)
And yes because he has had one day to decide to store this damn expensive pool full of patches . It clings to all these small pieces of transparent glued here and there.
was his charm, his fragility ( what a surprise it was that fragile crap plastoc not roll into a round solid !)
Mr undertook it this weekend. For me it was too hard ... I could not ... (Find yourself an excuse Muscari, viiiite, you find a good excuse ...)
He gutted siphoned (beuark. ... with everything that was lying in the same slugs .... .. .. frankly disgusting too ...). He spread his waters on the fields next door.
This morning it was cleaned, dried, spread on her to make one last hug and he whispers in the patch of the words of love. (I have proof, there)
He folded took him in her arms strong man to carry it to its winter home ( an ordinary cardboard at the bottom of the garage, but no, not us this long to piss pool anyway ...).
And?
And in his arms, that bitch let herself go, she is gone for good impaled on the set of Mr. Pool suicidal Kilucru?!
Appraisal: a hole more ... HOLE too.
Mr. Muscari was not angry, he pulled the pool in his box and threw in the trash. Not until the end ... but it has made us sweat that. Enough ', I swear mucha take quite a layer ...)
End of story.
.....
Until next summer!
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