Customized Waffle Makers

The bottle has The bitter

Leaning on the railing, I already have a mouse next hot sun and I adjust my tricorn like to do next. I narrow my eyes, memories of a night of dreams appetizing and I feel my stomach a bacon and eggs that will soon fill my belly warm. My eyes grab something on the beach, a paddle, a branch, a je ne sais quoi ...

acuity My guess she sees more and my legs already set off for I bring this unknown. I swing like a monkey up the beach, waving a cough the dock. The closer I get, the more I identifies the object that awaits me ...

The sea murmurs of a thousand drops down gently and I, stuck in wet sand that seems to suck my sandals. I fliquer-flocked back in, holding my hand the trophy: A Bottle!

I turn and turn, stroking his ground glass to see if it hides a message, as usual. The cap is docile and I turn my pogne slowly, releasing the neck. My foot slides into the protective glass and I see white parchment invite me to take it. My nimble fingers grip the mystery and I go out on vellum.

The wind whipped my face and stringy my hair while I read my message. I repeat my message because I sent in the face. I know this writing but not the words she tells me. I read slowly and dares to believe .

hints of memories back to me. I feel his hair, his skin and his desire, like last time. The tide of life has covered our story of sand to bury it forever. Words unequivocal cure my Pirate's heart, which pushes the grief and pain of their cuffs.

But I know that my bruised soul will take time to swallow and palanquin oblivion of tears. I make a few more steps and I was the gateway to my world of Captain. Men come and go and my throat does not shout anything. My neck is taken as in the glue to inveigh gulls and bastards. I take a little momentum and I reject the bottle into the sea and far away.

I would take the rudder and the wind as if to punish me. I feel my mouth pucker and my eyebrows and I twirl my steering wheel to go to the ocean.

I need to feel the spray of adventure to avoid screaming to Cape Horn.

A single bottle of my youth I was circumcised, cut a link and my own love.

A tear falls from my cheek reddened but I grit my teeth.

I have nothing ...