time ago I have this mini history saved, inspired ...
Nicole had a privileged imagination and the world at his feet, but his dreams were spent an afternoon in April and drops of rain were responsible for collect them and scatter them down the drain. No longer smiling. It appears that neither feel or suffer. His broken soul cries out for a bit of love you create will not receive. And everything is false and nothing is true because your life is spent with each step he takes, or at least it feels. You just need a bit of illusion a hope, a passion. Maybe a smile is the best salvation. But today, in his room on the third floor, pointing a gun without shaking, his temples. Whatever you do, your head will only butterflies.
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