Concluding. Вадим Головченко

      Вадим Головченко

      © Вадим Головченко, 2021

      ISBN 978-5-0055-4411-7

      Создано в интеллектуальной издательской системе Ridero

      Concluding

      Volle

      No DID WOIIY, IQI troublesome such storyteller is

      Took it to the level of my beloved, and the highest sort of

      Thinking. This could be am explanation of why penned. Being

      True such though. I never spoke a Wooing Wrong Word to her. And

      She said it. In addition, we made it. In addition, we have done it.

      Once again no one understood us, but I was there and I

      Remember clearly that day, when once a funeral was broken by my

      Cough. I laughed hard when I arrived home. Finally this b*

      Almost there, in my hands crying. And not in the dearest of

      Sense 5s.

      Chapter 2

      A request on my dinner

      I saw there if nothing ever happened, between her and me.

      She was taking from me by Surprises of my own though no one ever

      Was as surprised as ne. We then often laughed about it, and no

      One ever took it seriously. «I want a hamburger on that». Said I

      To the waiter. We must take it seriously, she replied. I ate,

      In addition, thought. A lot about my wisdom to what I nearly had done to

      Ex=wife. I thought nothing could be possible. In addition, that was not

      Completely true now.

      Chapter 3

      The end.

      I was walking down the street, while my neigbouw was

      Passing by. I asked whether she was a hobo or not. She replied

      Kindly «not». I said, let us do it, if you know what it means. She

      Surely was not right by giving me a surprise slap on the face. I No big worry, nor troublesome such story teller is

      At her blink of an eye at the edge of a door. She left. A letter

      Said leave me alone, and I left the letter and all the thoughts.

      The Person was hopingly dead. The interest been done. Lives

      Such. I respond to it life I would, life Ideal taught me. And

      That would be another Intone, to another story of my life.

      We sit, and we talk. Yet again, we discuss what happened.

      She does not reply to me. In addition, I wonder why. Why is she that

      Immortal. Why she is strong. Why she level. We go and say hello.

      That is to be kind as usual. What I see is nothing between us. I

      Hope we would be dead. Not by any chance, but by the circumstances

      Of our story. We can then go and speak to each other in a very

      Quiet atmosphere, where no one can listen to us. Except, for

      Perhaps, a person, unknown, unusual and desperately funny to

      Me. What if? Surely not! And that would be hell glance, to my

      Raising question. Raised though,

      – Who is he?

      ==He is not him. – would she reply.

      = -Then why would he?

      – I did not understand = = her being to me politely. I could

      Guess she is not that me once again, and does not understand

      What is going on? However, I hope she must take it sincerely and say:

      What was that opinion about, that, of mine. She is silent. Just

      As me. Not speaking, not loving, and only hating each other. The

      Whole world too. In addition, in this total hatred of us, only one can

      Say who is right, who is not. Who once deadened our love? And

      No big worry, nor troublesome such story teller is

      At her blink of an eye at the edge of a door. She left. A letter

      Said leave me alone, and I left the letter and all the thoughts.

      The Person was hopingly dead. The interest been done. Lives

      Such. I respond to it life I would, life Ideal taught me. А

      That would be another Intone, to another story of my life.

      We sit, and we talk. Yet again, we discuss what happened.

      She does not reply to me. In addition, I wonder why. Why is she that

      Immortal. Why she is strong. Why she level. We go and say hello.

      That is to be kind as usual. What I see is nothing between us. I

      Hope we would be dead. Not by any chance, but by the circumstances

      Of our story. We can then go and speak to each other in a very

      Quiet atmosphere, where no one can listen to us. Except, for

      Perhaps, a person, unknown, unusual and desperately funny to

      Me. What if? Surely not! And that would be hell glance, to my

      Raising question. Raised though,

      – Who is he?

      ==He is not him. – would she reply.

      = -Then why would he?

      – I did not understand = = her being to me politely. I could

      Guess she is not that me once again, and does not understand

      What is going on? However, I hope she must take it sincerely and say:

      What was that opinion about, that, of mine. She is silent. Just

      As me. Not speaking, not loving, and only hating each other. The

      Whole world too. In addition, in this total hatred of us, only one can

      Say who is right, who is not. Who once deadened our love? And

      <$surname>

      No big Wily, for troublesome such storyteller

      Of kindness, I have taken all that needed to be a man. Of the

      The one I thought well. My father taught me a lot. Mom, OF Memo

      Was kind to me too. Though never said anything wrong of the

      Elderly. I besides that is natural humanity professor teaching

      Eloquent