My fascination with the women begin to take on characteristics of the disease. Well, I know - the disease of addiction.
Somewhere lost male urge that all land should be encountered in my bed. Maybe it's because I do not have brakes and you recognize them backfire her loneliness, rather than a simple desire.
captivate me, a woman young, mature, old.
Each take pictures (though not usually have a camera), with each talk, I'm looking for a trade at any beauty or ugliness. The sign can be the eyebrows, feet, nails, hands, mouth, ears, hair, chin, breasts, thighs ... The litany of beautiful collections.
Then spisuję TE marks. Hallmarks of my fascination. Hit the paper fantasies, writing unsent letters never, take pictures, I'm dreaming.
As a collector I assume every week another klaser their prey.
Everyday I go back to his addiction. Gram intuitively. Words often are too lame to give picture of "you encounter." Photos accidental and they are still not scheduled meeting. So I start to mention a dash imperfect lips, eyes, their costumes and moods. I draw and crushing. Card for the card. Woman woman. Abandoned, discarded, raped, lovable, lonely, sometimes happy.
No words spoken. Full head, full folder full of books.
When one of them suddenly calls me, I'm surprised and embarrassed by the lack of time Doin or fatigue on the road. Suggestively lies in self-defense.
When rings again and tender voice of my name, I begin to lose self-assurance. I get afraid that for this one I'll have to leave TE all.
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