Maybe one day I read, and if not, it's even better. When we are young, have great potential optimism without any coverage. We plan, we have, gospodarzymy goods, which do not have, but certainly we will dispose of them. And it is very beautiful feature of youth. In middle age we live only illusions, and then pretend that everything is for us and at your fingertips. I pity you so much, because I can see clearly how your dreams are dwindling, and now there are only pious wish. Mierzyłeś high and did not notice elusive stones, which as it happens in fairy tales pinch just to show up with royal splendor. In a word-chased by someone else's happiness, and stayed with the wind in their pockets. I believe that and so you were lucky. Wind is a good ally of the lonely. Happens everywhere and nowhere warms the place. It is invisible and leaves behind destruction ... So if I had you paint, it's only form of wind and brush wypaćkam already.
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