Do Incest Happen In Real?

Love is not enough. But ... Before

Almost two years ago I wrote that love is not enough .
Less than a week ago, someone used my own words without knowing it, and it made me wonder what has changed for me since then.

More or less nothing.

I still believe that love is a feeling that can only be beautiful but only a basis upon which to build, and not the walls.
I still believe that the compromises are necessary, but not required accept them.
I still believe that perfect love does not exist.

But I learned that listening to (themselves and each other), is the first step.
I learned that this is not to come meet on divergent paths, but to understand each other, feel, hear how the other feels .
I learned that this is not to walk together, but walking by, and when the road is bumpy, exchanging places at the moment can work things out.
I learned that those abstract romantic platitudes of self-giving heart are true. Because for love, for love well, it is first necessary to balance without damaging that piece of meat alive that you find yourself in hand. Each other.
Nobody can protect yourself if your heart does not riprendendoselo.

But mostly I learned that as you can read, listen and ask, you will not find anything or anyone that can tell you what is "your" way.
And so you go back to listening.
hear what you want, even when it contradicts itself.
And listen to what the other wants, even when he contradicts himself.
But above all, completely forgetting what I was taught as "right" if you do not feel that.

The wonder is when they feel the same things. When you understand what's
"smooth corners, and other be left intact by accepting that sting ".
When you understand when injury is inevitable, but you also know that this is right because it takes too.
When you know, when you know that love is something so fragile, thin, labile, who do not treasure appoggiarvici.


Then it's like looking through a soap bubble, iridescent in the balance on our noses.

Courtesy of Liisu

How Strict Are Fly Be Baggage

old projects

Hydroquinone Cause Skin Turn Dark

The What first struck me is the smell of eucalyptus emanating from his hands while passing me on the face very light, barely skimming. Arrivano the hair, the fingers you mix, can you pull back. I covered my eyes with a bandage that has the same balsamic scent, he tells me not to try to look at, let my body to feel what happens. Gate the image of the walls of blond wood, blue candles all around, and instead I feel the smell and warmth, that blends with the background music, a feeling of general well-being.
slowly, taking care of gestures to do with taste as the wait, moves the cloth that covers me, and begins to caress her legs, one at a time starting from the feet and going up to the groin, and mix with scent of lavender eucalyptus that I have on my face.
I decide not to indulge at all the movements, to let me move like a rag doll.
I feel that moves, changes its position, but does not remove your hands from me. He does not want me to miss the contact. Trailing a caress with one hand while the other covers me with a towel, her fingers go up my skin when I discovered the breast and belly, and begin to explore an inch at a time as if they were creating a map of my body, as if they were interrogating me while learning. I
wheel, without discovering never completely, with almost never speak, except to admire the tattoo that stands on my back, and again, relentless, hypnotic touch of his game. I think if you told me to take the smallest share, I would not be able, are in a kind of torpor, and lie in complete confidence.
me reeling again, I completely covers up to his chin, and I along with long strokes across the cloth. Then I lifted her up, hands me a cup of tepid ginger and sugar knows, and tells me "I'm going to wash my hands, take the time you need."

Ah, no I told you that I started a course of massage?