My dear brother for unmerited love to you, I will write from today only in English,

 I knew for a long time that you are the surgeon, surgeon for my heart and you will follow me from distances measured carefully asked not to break me and sprinkle with the tears of the past time when we cannot be ruled to tell the others how wrong they chose to live.

I am steadfast and yet the same I did not sweat the Christian wandering and my soul trembled with the joy of freedom under the blue sky that passion over the yellow leaves of the long and warm Swedish autumn, the words I'm thinking are the monsters of the cunning charm of the morning of October 12 of 18 after two thousand.

The words of thanks did not hurt my last night's sitting on a mattress mattress to the church for the eternal memory of the holy Ekaterina Paraschiva, the protection of writing and reading.

There are other people who mention it in my thoughts, along with others who have left us physically, but who haunt us as a muse.

Coffee morning is expected to be drank and written and remembered of it as a soul spiritual liquor.

For the country that has humiliated its sovereignty in the same color just easier. In blue and yellow, into the service corporation

Migratory birds carry with them the very eternal kingdom, and yet so desirable in winter, with fluffy snow, where I overturned it like a beetle.