|It has been like the kiss of ice of an old man's corpse in the ardent cheek of a girl in love. What a disappointment! I have discovered that I coexist intimately with human beings those who do not like the flowers. The bulbs of blue hyacinth that the Kings had brought me in house of my godmother, put carefully in a pot in the sill of the large window of the living, where they were receiving the Sun of the midday that already a green had woken up in the eye of the central outbreak, have been rejected.|
It is clear that it is not a sufficient motive for doing the suitcases and to come back home of mom; at this point, already we know that the life is full of disappointments and grates one more even it does nicely in the skin of the tiger. But I have gathered the bulbs of blue hyacinth that the Kings had brought me in house of my godmother, and have given them a kiss in the green of the eye of the central outbreak.
Now they live in another house; they have found a home and a family, which waters them and opens them the curtains of the large window of their living in order that they receive the Sun of the midday. They are loved, and they have answered intensifying the green of the eye of the central outbreak, beginning to get conceited, replete with blue and of perfume that will explode soon in an act of love.