Small puff old sighs and baked apples. The old have more children or they never call. The old seems which grow more and so much better. The old are as alone as street lights, hearts, rag, grumpy and they leave. They still age slowly with a small bag for shopping, you never know. The old must live up to the death without a caress, an old dog like a penalty on a leash. They become confused, they stumble and go away confused. The old people who bring food for cats, and cats as they rummage through garbage cans. The poor old stars with the fly open. Always between the feet and locked in the kitchen if anyone comes. The trademark hat on head chick. If only I could drive and if I had a car, if only I could get them all as they are at the seaside Those old half blind half deaf, and glasses to look at it carefully and measure the drops for a disease difficult to say. Pants rolled below the knee, and we jumped into the water to avoid or never come back ....
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