Yesterday we went tobogganing with the small to the outdoor air and I do not know if it's the thrill of our runs in the snow or the imprint of the atmosphere of the book I am reading now to me remained glued to the body but still is it that I remembered the times where I slip the evening after school at the mill and the coast that I had to eat snow of the oldest, the big bad Nounoune Girard Labrie Wood Street who often came to the bullies in not 'worse Boutte who had past the evening we drool me worse my boyfriend. They were divided into shouting: "You almost suffocate us cursed cellar."
That evening I discovered the pleasure of being on the side of torturers and not limp after the large flank that everyone ran out of school and came home to him in tears.
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