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This is a fragment of a novel, self-invention, written by me, which is entitled: 60 men’s in his life, where cruelty is recounted with a 13-year old is kidnapped and forced to work, providing escort services with men, after months of forced labor escapes and is on the way to men; which let in a particular trace, a novel that mixes drama and pain of many children who are abducted and forced to work in this contemporary purulent debris.
Written in English, French, German and Spanish by Julian Katz Saba Raynauld Work
1. Knowing the World
4. Changing Clothes
5. Evenings alcohol
6. From One on One and the other Chapter
7. Without love there is no life
8. While the verb remains, ignorance does not perish
10. Could you hate?
Luis, pablo, chino, cesar, julio, David, marcos, Alejandro, adrian, Ulises, Mark, Álvaro, Peter, moisés, ralo, Daniel, Fernando, moreno, José, Ari, Aarón, Eduardo, jean, Carlos, Irving, Fabián, Dylan, Roberto, Alberto, Vladimir, Ricardo, Erick, Isaac, Paco, Danny pelirrojo, Juan, Israel, Mauricio, Christian, Ángel, Gustavo, David, otro Pedro, otro Ulises, anónimo pelirrojo, Iván, Charly, Abraham, Alan, Juan pablo, Declan, Josue, Federico, Manuel, saín, Víctor, Dante, blandón, izáis, Aldair, Edgar, Edgardo, chucho, Tommy, otro Alberto, Alfonso, otro Luis, donaban, Saúl, diego, AldoAll these names, they all have something in common; I. If and although it sounds delusional to say, even banal, meaningless, how a person 13 years old this with so many people having sex, cross ties, Mesclando textures, expanding horizons, opening cease moving hip, succumbing to the flesh and bone?, this is more than implicit in my. Start my sexual maturity with an attorney, I went to a foreigner, I followed him with someone outside my religion, I went on a trip with the son of the driver, I got wet in the bathroom with the son of my master, I covered my face and closed kiss me was the son of the friend of my aunt, I locked myself in the closet for my friend found me, walked and ran only to find to my friend’s cousin, fantasized my tutor high school; but I was glad when he turned his eyes to my hair, I loved the sweet way of a schoolboy, but was dying of jealousy boy model who was the brother of a friend.
You play to mature; man with body and mind of a child, you play to be, to fly, to want to love, to splash the wind of your words, but just like you in your dreams.
You all wake in the pit of hell, are reborn in the scorching sun burns your eyes, dry your veins, you boil your heart, turn off your lean be walking on clouds, flying on the ground, run in the water, cross the fire and only you stay in your dreams, dream of grandeur, dreams of nostalgia, dream life, dreams of success, dreams of this when you concentrabas in the past, dreams and more dreams, dreams, twisted love, madness, dreams.
If you think of your poison, I could not forget; you, only you, loving man; affectionate lover who cloudy days you find that your blood runs in the Ganges, that is clouding your beauty of horror, that your intelligence does not reach more, and that you, if you; tearful eye is open you left me; oh man surrounded by white roses calla, cry, this takes away my sorrow, take this pain hurts hoarse and deep chest; brown blood and torn with your name, oh, take it away from me. When I tear the mouth into the throat, penetrates and scratches, plays, flies like a hummingbird, fly like a dove, as time flies, flies like our youth, fly like our love and yes, fly to the sky, fly to high is mix between clouds and bobs from side to side, as a orangutan being on a liana, fly to the stars; shine alone, silent, waiting to go, shine like your sweet seasoning, shine like the grimace of a smile, shining like the sun, shines as the moon, bright as the volcano, as my hill shines, shines like your life, and shines more shining, jump and fly more and more screams and shouts; as seen and she loves alone, life. Only lines that were perceived between nublosos my dreams because of your absence, life escaped me all the days as fleeting friend prefers to be anonymous, I would like at some point; between my full youthful follies of immaturity I can find, I do travel in and out of my own imagination to find the reason of insanity to the same sex, what is the most logical reason?, I sense that there is no response to discover this question months that his chair in my hair.
There are inspiring stories I could tell without the need for my presence becomes melancholic narrator, sometimes when I walk by a park out of my busy city I imagine wars; wars that are there but are not counted in the right way, I am next to a large pond that is a few meters of the huge park, where I can admire its dried leaves lining the floors wet earth, can lie between leafy tree that seems strangely a couple of itself, with the only difference that half of its thick bark splits, fills me with admiration, but also a strange concern I can spend admiring the bucolic landscape waiting for the sun sets and that middle of serenity and strange thoughts questioning why my life, the why of things, why the 60 men with whom I have broadened my horizons, I can only find my words stay locked in my moments, each saved time and riddled with pain and sorrow, love and a spectral image that is eaten per day day, my rosy robe fertile imagination.