I suppose you have to do with the slow breathing, with the serenity of his expression, with the fragility that gives them their most vulnerable, with the innocence of the child recovered, the puppy, Angel: I've always felt a strange tenderness to those who sleep.
Before the cat or dog that literally tumble over an abyss of peace that we can never know but it makes us wonder what heaven will be our animals, why are extensive beach legs running when suddenly they lose control in deep sleep, when they growl or moan or Miage when smacking dreaming who knows what delicate dishes. When you shake your hand as if to pass slowly, slowly, slowly on his kind back. Asleep, confident, with his head sometimes about the warmth of your own body that are impossible for security grants the time for rest.
handsome young face and sullen eyes that gets on the bus way Unquera, who came to the station with cocky gait, sporting and stubble. That soon fell asleep in the passenger seat and experience a sweet metamorphosis, as if a new light softened his hard features, as childish, driving through a sustained and strong breathing into the realm of the quiet cattle.
Never, however, to companies, cities asleep. Those who are defeated by conformity and laziness, which were left tangled in the wires of a power idiots who never thought them but to use the general apathy for their own benefit. Those who resign and are adapted so that nothing disturbs her unconsciousness, comfortable in the prison of the old obscenities that they never want to replace by the smell of clean white sheets sunny.
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