those are beautiful photos of the beginning, all grainy and analog?
I speak of those where you see a Lord of Dogtown committed to swipe the bottom of the skate on a slope that will surely take some of her skin.
those in which the two are Steve, cappellonissimi around a crock made with the pieces sold by RadioShack. Those moves permanently, as it is done well but badly lit, those wet parchment after wave coming from the west and had a fucking of wet years to dry and dusty.
we all have a picture like that. One that we remember when we stopped, perhaps without even realizing it, that the pendulum constant that we have inside, what is between customs devilishly precious and the other thing, it slowly consumes.
A picture in which we unconsciously invincible.
Today I woke with a start in having beautiful eyes and a blurry photo, while a ballad that went in my ears, I decided in the later afternoon, was The Best Of You Foo.
In short, the pendulum has stopped a second for his cocks.
I decided that, no matter what or when, my little trick on my table will result in a written Wired up, even if it focuses on the angular momentum of the Trikke compared to social networking.
and cacatemelo.
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