Here corner of the tablecloth, I'm happy how it turned out they were colors, beautiful at first it looked good, but when he was entering the orange me would have liked more.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Oil Of Olay Eye Cream
TABLECLOTH LINENS AND GREEN ORANGE GREEN AND ORANGE
Here I leave a number I've been embroidering tablecloths Yugoslav or vagonite about, it's fun and easy to do, and now with my paintings gain sufficient assurance I have several started.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Image Of Indian Wife Wear Nylon Stocking
What are the oleanders sad ....
NEIRA dedicated to Jesus, the teacher who taught us what it's like in life.
What are the oleanders sad, because the wind in love
thorns
because you've gone where the fog comes, rinsed
where
white flags and swaying flowers pastors chairs
in rain .. rain and life. That sad
are there so stiff,
which does not erase hallelujah, where butterflies
and goblins
sweep the roofs of the morning,
where there are holes in the puddles
and rides at dawn
between eclipses
clothes and fish and plants that steal the afternoon. That was sad
oleander,
because a door has been wall
have shackled with chains because the wind pushes
kites
for you, a professor of life, has broken the walls
of those who put poison corridors birds.
you, keep walking between clusters, plowing
flows in the shadows, watching
yards passing tiles,
where the sun poured
dialects and the quarrel in court olives, which merges
in soils
flowers and the hills of fire wet with rain.
if ...! You are the colors of the sea and the smell
stamping the waves and cliffs, and aprons
broken gypsies,
those who reap the harvest alba white coves
dissolved in forests. Professor
that are sad
although irrigation,
will water every morning, every day with streams of fig
confident,
for women, for women
are the soles of his steps to
your undefeated stanzas
questioned the hall of seasons, tying with vines
Air
sludge stairs, rushes and rain.
That is sad because
oleander flowers have taken their hats
and strands that underpin the night, waiting for the onslaught
the pitchers
cool oak cabinet with clubs. We will continue looking
vineyards and mists where lie the magicians,
sow with white roses
edges of the mouth of thoughts and latched
oil paintings, sand and close our free
fumes moments of doorways
with sleep pillows where
That sad stories are the oleanders
because they speak with Mayor the breeze, waiting for his train
, staining of kisses
defoliating the attic of the steps, waving
their source and their two pitchers,
stone carving his legacy, where there are waiting
deleted hallelujah,
where butterflies and
goblins sweep the roofs of the morning. That desolate
are cowards,
envious of the sadness of the oleanders,
Because they know .... where you are, giving
life where the flowers sway,
where memories are decorated with lights
aromas and ... winds that devastated
are cowards because you remember the oleanders teacher
because they know that your legacy is stone are
than sad than sad
oleander but ... how beautiful.
© www.quieroayudarte.com 
NEIRA dedicated to Jesus, the teacher who taught us what it's like in life.
What are the oleanders sad, because the wind in love
thorns
because you've gone where the fog comes, rinsed
where
white flags and swaying flowers pastors chairs
in rain .. rain and life. That sad
are there so stiff,
which does not erase hallelujah, where butterflies
and goblins
sweep the roofs of the morning,
where there are holes in the puddles
and rides at dawn
between eclipses
clothes and fish and plants that steal the afternoon. That was sad
oleander,
because a door has been wall
have shackled with chains because the wind pushes
kites
for you, a professor of life, has broken the walls
of those who put poison corridors birds.
you, keep walking between clusters, plowing
flows in the shadows, watching
yards passing tiles,
where the sun poured
dialects and the quarrel in court olives, which merges
in soils
flowers and the hills of fire wet with rain.
if ...! You are the colors of the sea and the smell
stamping the waves and cliffs, and aprons
broken gypsies,
those who reap the harvest alba white coves
dissolved in forests. Professor
that are sad
although irrigation,
will water every morning, every day with streams of fig
confident,
for women, for women
are the soles of his steps to
your undefeated stanzas
questioned the hall of seasons, tying with vines
Air
sludge stairs, rushes and rain.
That is sad because
oleander flowers have taken their hats
and strands that underpin the night, waiting for the onslaught
the pitchers
cool oak cabinet with clubs. We will continue looking
vineyards and mists where lie the magicians,
sow with white roses
edges of the mouth of thoughts and latched
oil paintings, sand and close our free
fumes moments of doorways
with sleep pillows where
That sad stories are the oleanders
because they speak with Mayor the breeze, waiting for his train
, staining of kisses
defoliating the attic of the steps, waving
their source and their two pitchers,
stone carving his legacy, where there are waiting
deleted hallelujah,
where butterflies and
goblins sweep the roofs of the morning. That desolate
are cowards,
envious of the sadness of the oleanders,
Because they know .... where you are, giving
life where the flowers sway,
where memories are decorated with lights
aromas and ... winds that devastated
are cowards because you remember the oleanders teacher
because they know that your legacy is stone are
than sad than sad
oleander but ... how beautiful.
© www.quieroayudarte.com
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