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Posts Tagged ‘books’

Yeah. German is difficult. It seems that English is the easiest language in the world. But the coolest thing is when you can speak German. Probably, it will take you few months to learn it but it’s definitely worth it! Germany is rich country and Germans are so friendly. On the top of that Thomas Muller is cute and there are lots of Germans who are also cute. Hehe.

Btw. It’s 7am and I am late for my German lessons. Will finish this post later.

Enjoy life! Love you all!

Tschus! :3

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Down on the west coast they got a saying
If you’re not drinking, then you’re not playing
But you’ve got the music, you’ve got the music in you, don’t you?
Down on the West Coast,
I get this feeling like it all could happen
That’s why I’m leaving you for the moment, you for the moment
Boy blue, yeah you
It’s getting harder to show it
I’m feeling hot to the touch
You say you miss me
And I always say I miss you so much
But something keeps me really quiet. I’m alive, I’m a lush. Your love, your love, your love

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http://m.universal-music.de/lanadelrey/videos/detail/video:341691/west-coast-radio-mix

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I am not addicted to football but let’s say that Germany is my favourite team for this World Cup 2014 and I found Muller quite cute. Now I wish I could post a sexy photo of him but as you already know my super slow internet doesn’t allow me but this will change soon. “but but but”, yes I use “but” quite a lot. So, yeah…fingers crossed for Germany and my Muller.

Mit freundlichen Grussen,

 

Poppy

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I don’t want red roses from my lover. They will wilt and die by the end of the week and I will throw them away and forget all about them. I want my love to engulf me completely and to make me drown in its pain and pleasure. I want my love to inconvenience me at times so I can realize and cherish the strength of our bonds. I want intellectual stimulation that transcends all boundaries and physical intimacy that sets my senses on fire. I want absences to hurt and meeting that will positively make me glow. I don’t believe that higher powers created someone especially for me. I believe it’s up to me to decide who I want to fall in love with and then give them a piece of my heart laughing and carefree despite the bloodstains on my chest. I want to wake up in the mornings, my feet talgled in theirs. I want to write poetry on their back in the afternoons and talk about astronomybat night. I want a passionate, all-consuming love that will make my toes curl and my head spin. I want my lover to know that I would rist death for their sake that I am willibg to abandon my current life and be a gypsy, to run away forever if it means I can spend eternity by their side. I don’t want red roses. I prefer white but if my lover sends me handwritten love notes I’ll treasure them forever.

 

Poppy

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Girl

“The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye but found by the heart.”

 

She would always take her umbrella with her on trips. She would return home and open it on warm summer evenings, her room would then smell of the Mediterranean, and then she would close it and put it back in her cupboard again.

 

She had always wanted to make a paper crane. Sitting on the bright sun-kissed windowsill, she would try and fold a piece of blue paper into intricate folds. And when the paper would become wrinkled, she would crumple it into a ball, throw it out of the window and watch it fall on the busy street below.

 

She would glance at him every now and then, and when their eyes would meet across the room, her heart would start beating faster and she would blush.

 

Sometimes when everyone would be out of the house, she would tiptoe into her mother’s room and try on her jewellery. Fora few moments, she’d close her eyes and imagine herself to br tall and beautiful. Then she would look at her reflection in the mirror, put it all back in its place and close the door behind her noiselessly.

 

She would always take a book with her on the meadows. Once there, she would lay her head on it and watch birds flying in the clear blue sky.

 

When she could not get up from bed anymore she would sit pensively and look at the vase of white peonies on her bedside table. She would sigh, and let teardrops fall gently down her pale cheek.

 

When she was taken to the Mediterranean to see the bright sun for the last time, she did not take her umbrella with her.

 

 

Poppy

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Indila

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