agonia english v3 |
Agonia.Net | Policy | Mission | Contact | Participate | ||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
||
![]() |
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() | |||||
Article Communities Contest Essay Multimedia Personals Poetry Press Prose _QUOTE Screenplay Special | ||||||
![]() |
|
|||||
![]() |
agonia ![]()
■ Music ![]()
Romanian Spell-Checker ![]() Contact |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2011-04-28 | |
Every day he is making the mix of colors.
Each color is a shadow of angel. She is thinking about the color of soul. It's easier at flowers. The petals confess the angel. The man's soul is also a flower! He saw her soul and he has shown. Bouquet of lilies of the valley. Now she knows how his soul is .
|
||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
|||
![]() | |||||||||
![]() |
Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests. | ![]() | |||||||
![]() |
Reproduction of any materials without our permission is strictly prohibited.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net
E-mail | Privacy and publication policy