tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-190540762011-08-05T00:02:34.795-07:00"I spent the flight of my days, spying the sea I love every waving thing When I smiled my teeth were mysterious There are waves in my soul, the edge of my clothes was salty and fresh,I love every waving thing. Speak to me of my death, so that I feel a reason to remember, today I'm afraid of having been. I love every waving thing, spying the sea..." Ataraxiashadownoreply@blogger.comBlogger01100