The singing in the little girls body was dumb. In the soul exhausting not to forget the smile. The eagle flies from the heart of freedom of music. The sounds that seduced her to think of something nice when it was over. She believed in nothing else.
promises, empty words were at the end. She saw the stars in the night and the warm wind in Italy. The stairs to the strangeness and the beautiful have fertilized walls.
climbing the stairs every little feet closer to their fate that they could not escape.
The fire was stoked with curses for the sweet little girl who laughed when it is no longer unobserved saw the facial expressions was a grimace.
accompanied the sound of the tones from the piano up the stairs to go up or down. From a window sang a lovely voice. Seduced her to lose the melody in their hearts in the warm winds that blew through the streets.
waited too long to listen to the child's ear. Moved, shaken, they knew the words without hearing them. She dreamed now and was always more into the soul center. You can feel nothing, only see Scheme prison environment. Soon you can feel the body no longer feels like cotton wool on it and it's too beautiful to disappear. For never see each turn to the thoughts. Never to come back and the lovely music to take forever.
Thus came the child, therefore, on the place of music lovers, not knowing where it was but knew that now their time has arrived, did what was ordered. Love his smile, like a curtsy to the strange man, making only one second miss, the hand clap in her face. Therefore, fast quickly all do it. Laughed at the man.
Time passed their time doing what was announced. To smile. More they felt before. Oh, how she was praised to be heard no sound. How proud was the mother with her. As unobtrusively as she went back she came and the grateful girl came to light. Took her mother's embrace of gratitude towards. Aloud she cried Mama I love you so and thank you for all you do for me. Such was the mother of peace, patted the head of hair and cursing yet suddenly. How do you see again, I'll make the braids come right again. You naughty child. She pulled her hair and pulled it out, it was gratifying that the disappeared because they could not even hurt from. The angry and said the mother felt a kick on her shin, and shouted insults towards her. It was often. And in the end had to get a girl could feel nothing, nothing felt totally switched off for everything. Took it in and left. So the child was in the layers of pain and the first girl heard the sounds of the lovely voices but still not in the street but was in the room on the camp had now was crying bitterly because the pain was so bad. The child did not know where it came from and had no idea. Only that this music was her wish to escape but now she could not endure, and no one had came to save her ... lost looks on the request of the pianist in her soul. So she dreamed as she was there in the notes ........
decades later, the child sat at a piano and played and the people standing around were happy. She was the happiest child in the adult body. It had come to the fore again when she saw a piano. Her love for the sounds were still there and they always slipped out when it was possible. Today she is a young woman who still has her love of music, but the difference is not to play in front of other patients in a psychiatric hospital, not in the trauma clinic, not at home the family or alone if she was.
Today she loves her lover in a common woman's body and the sounds of human sounds and music.
The silence was lost and the language came back to the sounds of Trust. Precaution she was and never went to someone with no knowledge of who it is and why it had to be.
She learned the steps to come to an end and there to go into the house to live with the hand of an adult. Thus, disclosed their job to climb stairs to go no matter where to go there where there is pain found her child's body and now she could climb stairs again without fear.
It was a tough time for these children to find herself and her lived to tell, write to the letters was a juvenile or paint. The adult body had to again take all the pain to be experienced around the process. So one could free them all from the inner torment
To turn to put our heads in the sand was not to let our children siedie way down the lost soul in our children.
So we went back the way to come forward.
This photo was I found the apartment after the dissolution of the parents. It was hidden in a book with comic scribbling hardly be customizable font, which was from a person of me. So the other children came to light. They were very deeply hidden in the soul, but not findable by this photo changed much.
are called triggers it, like the piano or the photo for example, one is in the time of past experiences and hurled what, what have these things up. As the holiday in Italy. This was totally out of the memory of all. It s just experienced because these children and the others knew nothing.
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