آدرس این وبلاگ یک غلط کردم جدی است. سعی میکنم خودم را سرگرم تدارک خوشحالی اظرافم کنم. سعی میکنم اینقدر خسته شوم که فرصت تکرار مکرر نکنم. این روزها تزکیه می شوم. این روزها من پنج ماهگی مان را تنها زندگی میکنم. پیامبری که فرستادی دیالوگ نمیکند.

It was the first day of census, and all through the land;. a black book in hand. He mounted his horse for a long dusty ride;. His book and some quills were tucked close by his side. A long winding ride down a road barely there;. Toward the smell of fresh bread wafting, up through the air. The woman was tired, with lines on her face;. And wisps of brown hair she tucked back into place. She gave him some water. as they sat at the table;. The oldest was twenty, the youngest not two.