By the light of my acorn
By the light of my glans, I travel the length of my stiff cock. Hello penis! My pornography is the charming territory of my exhibition.
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I don't think it's healthy to organize a fictional text in order to make itself accessible, nor to have to go through this or that ponderous demonstration of what one thinks and feels.
The mirror of the people is enough. Their thoughts must be reflected in it and not hung on the mouldings of the frame like a price, size and model label. Philosophy extirpated from the body that bears it becomes hollow and inanimate. These "virtual novels" are for me a way of reading this site transversally through some of its pages. There is no need to isolate the pages to make your own fictional path if you wish. In my opinion, this is the character and the potential of a writing specific to the Web.
By the light of my glans, I travel the length of my stiff cock. Hello penis! My pornography is the charming territory of my exhibition.
What's going on inside OTO's head? Probably nothing, air and fluid movement. Contradictory but never chaos.
Desolate cave my room is a sink where infernal animals are constantly swarming, where the masses of the crickets of the subway are striding...
OTO is a fictional, even friction character. He's what's going on in his head before he even conceives it.
The maps I draw up represent my body, a body that is ultimately the same for everyone. I turn around, turn around, I'm back to square one.
Map of Ile de Corps | Côté Rectal | The underside of Ile de Corps features the Roche de Seau d'Eau Mis, accessible from Baie d'Aisance.
Map of the island of Corps | Aquarius side | Bathed by the La Pudeur Sea, the island of Corps culminates at the Mont des Origines where the La Toison lighthouse stands.
A new free and raw blog, as a necessary refuge for the written word. A little secret but not stuttering and spontaneously readable for anyone who would like to come there.
Me, I spend my nights in the shelter. From everything. Sheltered from you, in spite of your suavely mellow voice that's so concerned with radio, hygienic and concerned.
Behind the computers, the lyrics look absolute. What a beautiful anonymity not to face oneself!