My palms until the juice itself by pointing the guilty and the right to the left through the eyes of a child after filtration, water to drink in my palm of my hand and placed it under their hands. One of tiny fingers like poetry, yes, he took his hands had sentenced under the influence almost all my soul. I lost all my mastery suffered as a spell. Behold the sea of poets; "A woman would be given their" feelings that I wonder where the poet lived my slave had repeated itself. all pure, şehvetsiz, loving feelings self Me Other aims will feel, the hands tightly after winding palm of my water from heaven that a sorbet Model of yudumlayış, the oh thirstily home affairs in the desert itself barely scraping a drop of water assigned to the Bedouin's case was no difference. Waist belt Ivy Model of the waist in such a sarmıştı that a sculptor's work of art on it deems important connections carefully process and want to highlight the points where the thin lines separate beauty to reveal as well as his entire body carefully processed and created the impression that it was giving. can not be reached on a fairy silk shirt seemed to taste that feeling. A noble woman resembling imposing stance and walk like an Arab horse never leaves my mind. Had left without saying anything. How is this beautiful brunette between two mountains, this vast valley suddenly changed my whole world was able to come out. Was this a dream, who is this fairy, what was his name, for days I'm always looking for answers to these questions. Oh my God, or am I crazy. Is my mind playing, I can not forget her cause ...