A force to connect, are disconnected so that you do not know where to look for their neuronal synapses scattered around the room. They are the eternal
fifteen to sixteen ... ettenni of the third millennium in the pipeline.
Riconnettiamoli.
Let the sense of limits, of silence, touch, sight and hearing.
The depth 'of the word in space and time, the reality' of a caress.
Related perennially armory profile, equipped and tribal, let them dance at a good pace.
That there is at least a little sense into a thread of smoke on the horizon, a small value so '.
Tomorrow is not mine, is ours.
're less less is just enough to survive, but after the curve is the sea.
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