THE FATE AND THE PAINTER

When I said it the last time we see you, sitting on the corner of the bed and never said anything. He looked blank, as if he had received the sad news of his life, the deepest, longest and worst of news, which was to make him miserable life. "But why?" He jumped into a place for him, "Why now? Why so?". Why hurry, you leave, you come, why not give him even a chance, why me, why him? Many questions that ought to be saving for us. But I feel that if even one second sitting around him, something was going to happen I would have regretted exceedingly sooner or later. I left, leaving him in the middle of the room with his questions which had not received a response. I left, not knowing if it was, indeed, the last time we saw.

Andrew had met long ago. He was a painter, a fairly known and appreciated, the new generation of artists, and come with an exhibition in the city where I lived. I had heard of the event and I really wanted to get to know him, because he was part of the artists that inspired me at the time.

Charismatic, visionary and very talented regularly watch his artistic development, which influenced my work and me. When I entered the exhibition hall, he was leaning against a marble column and row his paintings looked like he tried eyes, put his back frames. I studied in a corner from the entrance, without dare to enter into conversation with him, not knowing what to say first. I had seen many times on television, I had heard sometimes broadcasts on the radio, talking about his art, I admired him even studied his technique, we take the example of my own attempts to paint but never had had the chance to see him so close. I walked around the room looking at her paintings, studying them all carefully, trying to catch them beyond the subtleties of color. "I'd like to paint at a time, if you'll excuse me. I noticed how you come in. I think we should meet sooner or later," I heard suddenly a voice behind me . I turned and I saw his eyes, cold and gray, but I got to the heart. They included emotions and do not even know now, after all this time, what I said or even if I said something. I was shocked by addressing it directly. Nonchalance that amazed me was telling me so directly, all that stuff, I was just wonderful that I muse that he wanted, even for a single painting. I left my scarf slide off both shoulders and I joked, fitting us, and touch, and words. I pretended a little surprised by the courage I had, but I could not rejoice in myself, that I had chosen just me, of all the women present at the opening, and there were few who really deserves the attention of a man like him. We've separated all night, as if standing between us stories happened years and years. Laugh, debate various topics of interest, and, occasionally, after a break of a few minutes of silence, he told me the story of many a painting. Sometimes when sipped champagne, touched me gently on strands of hair, believing that not noticing, as if he wanted to paint even then, live. Besides he felt an incredible magnetism, which he never sensed him in the presence of any man. I was, myself, a budding artist, with barely finished Faculty of Arts, and he is one of the most successful artists of his generation. It was a combination of humor and mystery, classic beauty, male, strong hands that gently create. Tall, brown hair and penetrating eyes, he had a special smell of men's fragrance mixed with paint and oils, we feel quietly only when it touches.

I love him even then, that first night, but I oppose any bit, because I realized that it would be in vain.

My whole being felt floats. For the first time I conveyed my brain as I have no reason to hold the shields raised, I had no point in trying to pretend to be something or otherwise. It was a feeling of complete safety which provides me comfort especially mentally. I just got carried away, not knowing what will happen in my life. We parted at the end, with the promise of meeting again sometime, somewhere, without a precise target. Initially I thought it was a game that will last a few days, where we pretend that we ignore, and later to review and revisit everything from where we stopped. Even kiss me before I go. Suddenly on the run, before leaving without giving me the opportunity to oppose a kiss to us confirm that yes, we had to meet, sooner or later. I given my phone number, because I asked him, and now I was just waiting for her to call me. It's been long days, where I was just thinking to it, it's been nights when we paint from imagination. They have several situations going on the street when it seemed that I saw and I was very close to cry. There he called again. After a year, incidentally, unscheduled, we crossed paths on a railway platform. When I saw him coming on, I had the same feeling as our first match, coming out of nowhere same emotion, same incredible magnetism that time is not lost, but become even stronger. I had time to grab a coffee, waiting for our train, and we promised that if we meet a third time, all somewhere, sometime, incidentally, will be a clear sign that we are made for each other. I had the courage then to say I do not want to play, that I want him, beyond the paintings, genuine as it had shown me the first night. That no longer willing to wait another year thinking about it, and it's much easier to dial a phone number than wait for fate to do everything. He left, and I thought again that it will be a game that will last a few days. This time, I had asked me phone number, which had given me happy, so I was thinking that all things will become normal at a time, because if he had not had the courage to call or, if looked pure and simple, I'll do it. But I do not I called again.

After another year, I no longer had learned anything about him, had to participate in a group exhibition of painting in my city. Being an invitation to an artistic event, I thought several times that it is possible to reunite, there is even a small chance to see him again, I wanted to talk to him, and all the way I did was I am going to repeat the lines that would give them dialogues slightly funny, sometimes profound, which I had with me. We take into account all the variations in hand that would have occurred with a girl or wife, and I'm sorry if in a fit of pride I might have missed love of my life. There, in the end, looking for me to look across the room. He made his way through people coming up to me, took my hand and said, laughing: "Let's go!". We left without looking back, leaving behind everything, running on empty streets at the end of summer.

I woke up next to him in bed in his studio in a loft downtown. Wrapped in sheets, his skin felt warm hands, ready to devour me. He occasionally dip your fingers in paint and then next passing them over my body by painting me with kisses. After two years of waiting, the only fate helps us meet, and I was face to face. The same magnetism repetitions. Morning departure, while I was expecting

somewhat of a confirmation of what had happened between us, something that defines somehow our relationship, I heard from the mouth of the same words: can we meet somewhere, sometime, if fate will be our side. Disappointed by his attitude, I said then that it was the last time we meet. I left, leaving him in the middle of the room with his questions, which no longer had any sense. I left not knowing if it was, indeed, the last time we saw. I wanted from him more than a night of love than a coffee drink every year, I was sick so desperately seeking all figures foreign events and on the street, tired of waiting for the fuss, so many words that remain, every time, suspended between me and him. I went straight to the metro station, thinking I went home, I wanted to forget about artists, exhibitions, and to remain with my bohemian life and simple. After two hours, when there was very little and had to leave the house to visit my parents called me. With a soft voice, playful, he simply said: "Do not go. Not the other, but I still got you to paint."

We got married after only a month since I first entered his studio. Meanwhile, in recent years, we have become known both as artists, and had exhibitions worldwide. I learned with him that often, fate alone is not enough, because when you're given to meet the right person you have to fight, we have to struggle and you to move something, however small it be Your gesture, because only so big moves and things. Many years have passed since our first meeting, I stayed and now his muse, and he - love of my life, and I understand both, in the end, you and I should meet sooner or later.

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How can I share?

With her hand small and fine. And hot! Hot on the outside and inside. A small hand with a soul in my hand she holds my great and tired and breathless. I hold my breath to hear asleep, picking his heavy breathing of the man who fell asleep. I can escape to from her. She let me pull her hand out of his hand and go beyond. At him, her younger brother newborn.

I remember I race through hundreds of hours, even thousands I stayed beside her to sleep. Just sleep. And I feel that I raise my hand stole from me. That makes me feel her hand I do not belong to me. And it's nice feeling. Especially they belong . The man with the smile of a beautiful goddess. They belong, the one that makes me see myself, I reflect, I find, I find, like me and hate me, love me and forgive me. Let me 

understand.

And that makes me angry because I want to belong to me. Or even to me occasionally. At least when I need to pee.

And the wave of anger and helplessness to recover my self from the grip of her hand, through my head the next 30 years. Her rebellious years, the years leaving home, the years her love, the years in which you like to be snatched the hand. Be it her or others. Let's find. And shed a tear thinking that now I have the hand available from all hands its future. The warmest and most loving, the most unconditional and most possessive. The carefree hand of all. A hand only wants me for it, because it's too painful to share with her brother.

I can feel her breathing hard and I know she sleeps. I would like to turn on the hand May! Let me melt in her hand low and to remain there only her mother. They comprise clamp her hand with the other hand on heart, ask her if I want to feel her pulse small in my heart and I think what a privilege being so wonderful that holds my hand with her whole being.

I can not sip joy state of grace because I hear it. From beyond. He call me with his hand.

He just wants to be his mother!

I carefully hand the tongs escape her possessive love and run away from him hot dry lips and hands.

He did not like my hand. He wants me to squeeze the last body fluids and suck avidly. Preventively with a hand grabbed my other nipple. He drinks me like a beer mug with a scorching August day and  eats me like a hunk of meat to the lions feast. Too much expected to come from it. So he drink and  eat me until exhaustion. Let's nothing left of her mother. To devour all his mother. In one night.

It snatch with full noise, turns, and catch me.

He falls asleep holding my hand!

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WITHOUT REMORSE

It was Thursday and it was very hot, incredibly hot. Hairstyle not resist anymore. The hair stuck to his head, legs and bottom skirt, no air conditioning no longer cope.
I just thought the weekend comes and that's boring, we already knew what to do every minute. I was very bored and I felt very alone. And if you still .....

No, do not think, overblown yourself, you are now a married woman with children to raise. But even when convince myself, I passed through the brain thought that my husband knows not to make me vibrate long and the front of it, my fellow workers. Long corner smiling mouth when I saw it and I liked enormously do not mind me, although I knew clearly he likes.
One time at a party, talk to him about the problem and about discussing whether reincarnation really love the same person in every life. Live for the Far East and I just finished a book.

It passed quickly, and soon greeted me warm as usual, and I stayed with butterflies trapped in the abdomen. I knew she was alone, I knew not looking for anyone. Annoy me and I drew that do not mind me. Yet if ... pfffff, no!

Home husband informs me with a big smile on her lips that Sunday we go to lunch at his mother. And that's a joy he says it's the first time you go on Sunday - noon - his mother at the table. I smiled pretending they are on the brink of ecstasy.

I accused are lightly before thinking about the adventure, and I really tried everything? Why blame only him? Could it be that I have become boring in the marital bedroom?

Maybe we both changed. I tried it out on a walk after dinner. Refusal. I tried to make him look together in a movie (often together once we watch movies). Refusal. I expected to come to bed, I just Chanel (perfume) on me. So he came to bed, I fell asleep. It was normal to be late, but it was a league match on TV II. And actually, what I expected! This already happens when first child.

I woke up this morning (in Ciudad denial of Eve) very good mood and with a nail in the head ... If however!

And I imagined while sitting in the office and I went and heats all. And even if I decide what to do? Go ahead and tell him I want an affair with him? I'll take crazy. Excluded. I can humiliate me like this. Humiliate me? Humble? Hhhhhhmmmm, why take it as a humiliation ?

We met by chance in the hall to the coffee machine. I have skipped some words in your throat, I do not know that the brain has ordered:

- You said that your house is near a store with oriental. Where is it?

And even the next second I let my eyes down, I knew clearly that reads something instead of "oriental spices" in my eyes. And I was ashamed. What the hell? We have an age. I am a schoolgirl? Like I want to cook something Indian! Ppppffffff!

Am I entitled to vibrate, I am entitled to feel alive. I feel right on my own skin I'm a woman.

I have other uses than to see the house, children, relatives, etc..

I let my eyes down too late. Read everything they read.

- Tomorrow morning I'm home, if you want to come over for coffee and then give a round the store. At 10 would be ideal. She gave me the address and was gone.

I was like a fool next automatically. I felt super humiliated, I wanted to cry, to scream. What impression desperate I done?

Stomach pain due to nerve down after 5 minutes between my legs just imagining what might happen to his flat.

I sweat, I struggled, I suffered, I trembled all afternoon. Yes! We wanted! I wanted to go to him to do exactly what I felt, to go as safe with me as he left near the coffee machine and no longer stick never mind. Yes it have so much guts?

And who actually believed him? I ask him shop and he invited me to his home for coffee??? How do they afford it? Afford for you to read, I said and head voice, the voice would be a tight throat.

Of course I have to go to coffee with him forever. But what he thinks? I am a married woman. What he thinks, as I was I wrong husband?

Never. And I was dying of boredom??? Yes, better! But even I have to be clean, I will have no stain on the soul. I did my duty as a wife and mother. Ok! And then I told her husband that evening at dinner the next day I meet a friend in town to give a round ... are reduced. (How to get the reductions fall well anyway, and if it's adultery, see.)

E! So what? If I have to go? I could even go shopping tomorrow and Monday was no longer any bag in it. And if he asks months I was not I tell you blue in the face that I'm not a bitch goes home to someone drinking morning coffee, I really wanted to see the store. Point. Night.

The next day I do not know why I arranged it, I could swear I will not get to him. Still, I was very excited just thinking about what might come out if I go. But of course I have to go. I am a married woman who sees her job. Hearing nerve. How sure was he when he gave me the address, even thought it has to do with an adulteress.

But I could go to see store anyway. Can I get some spices and you surprise my husband cooking of Indian cuisine! Okay!

                                                                     ***

Steps but I just went on his door and do not know why but I started to not be so well ordered. I was very depressed. I felt something when we crossed eyes and know for sure that he felt. It was a unique feeling, warm and very pleasant. Yes! I liked him and felt a terrible need to have it and I have. If it hurt and thought that I thought was not coming. Supposed to feel, I had to live.
Let's fuck my husband those who believe that if you took your wife and kids did, pay house rent and rates to get your car. God, we and us to pay our rent, rates and even raise our own children. I need someone asked me before coming home if you need to buy something for the house. I really did not need. Can I do it alone. Even know how to hunt better offers than he did!

I need someone to comfort me with his eyes when he looked at me, to see even from a non tears flowed again. I need someone to ask me what's in my heart and not in the refrigerator. Lord, as we go down like this, instead we get in other areas in a relationship? Why (after initially going on clouds of happiness) do not know than to talk about taxes, children, food, gas price etc?

Does marriage really ruin feelings??

It was in front of me. I did not realize that philosophy as I climbed the stairs and I deepened the depression worse.

There was no coffee. There were two glasses of champagne. She stretched a glass. We collided and drank thirstily. Even I was thirsty. We looked at each other very deeply. She said in a voice strangled like: You are so beautiful! I asked with a hoarse voice, approaching me from easily reaching his ear and his cheek against my cheek. "Let's not talk!" And I talked for a long time.
I do not know whether we "like two crazy love" but I felt I dreamed I vibrated, I had sex, love as though it was the first and last time in my life. I never knew I could do what I did in the morning because I had not done before. I felt like I came in and he will not quit. I felt as if my whole being in there would have been from the beginning. I like being rebuked by his long time girlfriend

"How long were you waiting? Really do not feel my posts? Really do not know the first moment you'll be mine?" But I was not there to answer her, I was somewhere in the clouds, I was a single butterfly, beautiful, happy to fly as high because I only consciousness that you fly today.

I was happy! Even happy, not stories. I stood up, my legs were shaking. I wanted to go faster. I was scared that his vision will be his. Luckily call and mobile. I mumbled something and I immediately dressed. I left.

I left as he left me near the coffee machine. Confused full. Feels no guilt. I always thought that if I cheat I have guilt over his head. Nothing. Do not feel guilty about anything, from none.


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HUGGING IN THE KITCHEN

The kitchen is my favorite place in the house. Here I like to drink coffee with friends, to check my emails, even now all I type at the kitchen table, although I can not complain, I have other options.

It is a relationship created in time and finished with every event that happened here and every flavor we flooded nostrils. Here he makes and Brian, our son, homework, while I can see of mine and, if necessary, I May give one tip about splitting words into syllables. Here we take important decisions for the family. I have a table of natural wood, solid crust as thick legs that are visible traces of knife, stitches of pencil, trace colors. A meal that we know on each of the house.

At first we became friends

Once, before I was married, when I realized I did as a student, that to have food, you have to cook the relationship with this part of the house was one shy. Perhaps it also helped that enter cautiously into the kitchen because I expected all the time there to see my mother, who died quite early on when I just walked in the realm of adolescence.

At first the recipes dictated to call my grandmother. With fear and especially attention to the money allocated food. The same money could well have been turn to books, clothes, cigarettes or going out. I went "flirting" and we said we love each other when grown after I started taking a salary. Back then, it was clear that I can not survive without food.

What followed was pure passion!

Oh, how good it was when I discovered that I can cook well. Okay, well everything. That could spoil my

friends with one traditional way or rather exotic. Every ingredient I translate into ineffable alchemy. Spoon hot wood brought for tasting sauce with a touch of Indian flavors, sweet and spicy. Ginger complicated and prickly like a winter morning, pink pepper, extravagant and decadent, fluffy magic that turns on every house "home". I changed to a better stove without flash. We have invested in knives, small ceramic pots and utensils peeled, chopped, sliced​​, cut, boiled, baked. And slowly I felt fiercely angry than the (rare) cases where we gave one food from the earth. Two things are certain: cooked with passion and just when I feel like it. Like in a relationship at the beginning, a seductive secret love between me, that my taste buds confident - and she-cuisine, permissive, frisky, generous. We loved passionately until crust have installed the necessary baby food.

It has changed

Once the last child from breast bowl began a relationship more thoroughly, and levelheaded, between me and my kitchen. Now we meet twice a week to watch the evening to make out. We met daily with sultry long standing, no longer have time to do compliments or to surprise each other. Recipes simple several times a day. Just for the simple delight to the taste buds. Over time I started to get bored kitchen, she told me that I have become mainstream. Had settled routine and cold, not to mention! I knew what to expect, and mashed carrots with zucchini did not make the heart beat faster anyone. However, I had moments of intimacy with one cooked dinner later, spicy and refined - so as to remember why we fell in love in the first place.

Then came the baby at the table

When he was old enough to put the blender back in the cupboard above and a little to eat what we eat, over

all passion. By now, the spirit of saving time, cooked for us all he could eat and the young being who filled our days. We said goodbye for now to many things a few years kiddie considers Nasty, but that we adore. We shuffled here and there, spices and tastes that this was common and small. But I like to hide from myself: baked chicken legs, mashed potatoes, chicken soup and the fruit cake made ​​it on my kitchen wondering what she saw in my first . She made ​​it clear that this rate reach divorce. That I turned into a housewife and that I would embarrass the refined televised cooking competitions. "Good thing you're smart," I replied, slipping into the oven some meatballs with meat and vegetables. Smiled to myself because secretly slipped half a teaspoon of allspice and I knew that moment-not the furnace will release an aroma into the air to the nose can give: "See I still have something special?" Lucky that my kitchen did not like to run another younger!

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THE JOY OF LIFE

I have forgiven mistakes that were indeed almost unforgivable;

I tried to replace irreplaceable people;

I tried to forget the unforgettable people.

I acted impulsively,

I disappointed some people and I was disappointed by others.

I embraced to protect someone,

I laughed when we could not laugh,

I made friends forever

I loved and was loved, but also have been dismissed.

I was loved and I could not love back.

I screamed and jumped for joy,

I lived to love and made promises for eternity, but still me, I ignored them.

I cried listening to the music and the photos,

I called just to hear a voice.

I fell in love with a smile,

I thought I would die of sadness ...

I felt the fear of losing someone special.

And I ended up losing him really ...

But we survived and still live.

Do not go through life without me enjoy it ...

And should not do this any more than you ... so ...

LIVES, enjoy, take advantage of opportunities.

Be decided, embrace life and live with passion,

Losing with dignity and courageous triumph.

The world belongs to those who are not afraid,

And life is too valuable to feel insignificant.

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SOME THOUGHTS OF A BABY

Dear Mom,

I am completely confused.

I used to fall asleep in your arms soft, warm, loving. Every night I'm nest there, stuck on you, you hear the heartbeat, I felt the perfume, you looked beautiful face, I would let your hair soft and comforted by without me realize asleep safe in your embrace full of love listening to your voice warm and soothing predict how beautiful I will be tomorrow. When I woke up with my little stomach growling with hunger, or because I was cold or hot, or because I needed a little attention, even when a nightmarish dreams disturb me, you were always there, arms ready to go back to wear the most beautiful dreams.

But a week here, everything changed. Every evening the same thing happened last week: me sitting in the crib, you've forehead tenderly caressed, kissed me good night, you turned off the light and left the room. At first I was confused, wondering where you left hoping it will not take long and you feel you near me again. After a few minutes in a dark and watching the lights and shadows on the walls which were carried out in silence disturbed only by a mosquito that I heard somewhere in the distance, began to be afraid, so I cried. And I cried ... And I still cry, Mommy, but you did not come. I was so sad, Mommy ... I was in tears, I started to cry, I hid my head under the blanket soft, and for the first time in my short life, I felt abandoned. I need you so ... I never ever felt so alone. Where have you gone?

After a few minutes, in the end, you're back. Oh, what happiness came over me when I saw you again, if I

had a stone heart. I had thought you left me. I got up and stretched out her hands unto thee, hoping to feel you again neck skin, embrace that I had prepared. But you took me in his arms. Nor have you looked into my eyes. You sat back in the crib with your arms soft and warm, you said: "Sssttt, it's bedtime, goodnight!" And you left.

This happened again and again, and again. I still cry and, after a time, each time longer, you came to me, but I do not ever picked. Once you've been crying for you, at some point, I had to stop. The neck hurt very much, my head was roaring, growling tummy me hungry. But heart hurt most. Just do not understand why you left me. For a moment I thought that this is because I did something wrong, something that should be very bad if I got so painful punishment. Finally, in tears and thinking of all my actions that day, I fell asleep.

After a few nights that seemed like they took forever, had to give up, because you had not come when you cry, and when, finally, you came, did not even look at me, if you do not even care that sighing and shaking all over. The pain was too great to more continuous.

I do not understand, Mom. During the day, you fall and hit me, take me in his arms and kissed me quickly to pass me. If I'm hungry, give me to eat. If I go to you to cute, I guess thoughts and take me in your arms, I fly up and down with kisses and tell me how much you love me. If I need you, just answer me.

But the evening when it is dark and quiet wakefulness and light casts strange shadows on the wall, you disappear. I know you're tired, Mommy, but I love you so much ... I just wanna be with you all.

Now, at night, do not cry, do not cry, but I still miss you ...

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MOTIVATION OF LOVE

Here's what woman said about why they love men.
Because they forget . No matter what, but forget, and ranks first birthdays.

Because they have a personality so complex that they think and coach and quarterback , and offensive, and will, and club owner. Besides being extremely passionate when shouting "Goal! "

For drink beer, drink their magical cloud the mind , we fragrant breath and gradually increases their waist circumference.

For vendors of computer games " came to meet the desires and needs of consumers " , creating games that take place in real time . That he can not get out of the house 17 hours because it has a fight scheduled at 3 a.m. and have to prepare.

Because there is no one in this world who appreciate more spiritual wealth of generous ladies bust skimped on clothes.

For I do not understand though is give the woman and indifferent in themselves never give in to marvel and wonder what he actually creature near them .

Because they are plumbers, painters, troubleshooters and other trades well known to the man's house , they practice at first, but trust expert.

For as their afraid of dogs, dark, take emotional "Love Story" and luggage are very heavy and can barely carry , but are struggling to hide this.

For tremble when they hear the phrase "we need to talk" , because not only talkative . Good luck with genetic mutations that "generate" and specimens that recovers to half the neighborhood.

Because they are the greatest chefs in the world , meshes with fries and ketchup as a delicacy difficult to surpass in delicacy and richness of flavor .

Because their lives would be too trivial without the headaches caused by the woman beside him , who broke one of her fingernails neat went to sock yarn .

Because some of the wonders of nature are representatives of their own : Brad Pitt, Keanu Reeves and others .

For mascara , eyeliner or pencil eyeliner is a stick . Same bat ...

For child sex chromosomes depends and still the fault of the woman that does not make it his own football team.

Because when I get drunk all recall the grievances of their lives and recognize without much virility that we love .

For the list goes on ...

And yet ... why men love ? . . . Why are women !

Men have a lot of flaws and admit that sometimes I lie out of their behavior . But there is one thing that I appreciate them and that I am not able . And as I know there are many other women. You insult me ​​and do not agree with me , but I think men are more rational than us. We think often the soul and make decisions wrong.

We are far too emotional . When we panic , or are in a stressful situation we are not able to focus and do things right . We block . Then it's good to have around you a real man to put their brains together and help you make the best decision and do the wisest thing . It's good to have a man with his head on his shoulders.

Why we love men ? Because it was given to be ! It's good to have you with a complete soul , that'll be with you when it's good, and when you're wrong. I asked my friends what they appreciate most about men and why they could not live without . They gave me some very personal answers . Some I could say that I was and a little excited

It's good to love and be loved KARLA , 34 years I like to spend time with him , I would not ever get bored of his presence. He's gentle , kind, knows how to behave like a gentleman . I never thought it's good to stay with someone until 6 months ago when I moved in with him . And then ... I realized that to stay with him until we lived in vain .

What could be better than waking up every morning with the one you love ? I bring flowers boss swearing along the river , we sipping coffee together, argue , walk , eat one makes other clean up , go shopping together , I do surprises even very pleasant every day.                                                                         

What could be better to tell and show your loved one that you love ? LARA , 25 years : We love because they care for us when we head in the clouds are more realistic and keep things simple . We love that the men turns deadly in lambs , that allows us to childhood and , why not , they have higher wages than us ) Susan , 22 years old

What can I say .......... Keep your habit !




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