Famosas Mexicanas Fallando

006.

The building was the mystery. Or maybe not: it was the people who lived there who was the mystery. Or rather, no: the real mystery was the nightmares of Michelle, gathered in crowds, marching armies around his head, every night, more and more '. It was shock. A nothing worth repeating that he was behaving irrationally, nothing in the continuing efforts to snatch a moment of tranquility to the nights'. It seemed that the dreams were becoming more and more 'real, more and more' bulky ... They would have swallowed? The cat rubbed against her legs ... the slight scent of violets on the windowsill ... noises in the street ... machines ... the piece of blatantly clear sky ... Reality '... life. It was not so 'as bad as in his dreams, even had to admit that it could be much more' beautiful, but it was not for Toph, the small soft tophi, which ended with the human consciousness with comfort when she woke in the night terrified. Mewing. Almost an intuition of his thoughts. He smiled despite himself.
He approached the window. Anxiety devoured her. What had happened that night was a sort of overflow of the dream into reality '. Also for this reason it was so 'scared. She had dreamed of her fall from a window, feeling the void, to see the track more and more 'close up to schiantarcisi. Then it was weird 'cause it was seen, on the floor, poor thing without' life. Just a dream, of course. A bad dream. But the man that night ... 'cause? He thought the chatter of women on the landing of the building, people who lived there. Mr. Marcheli. Who was Mr. Marcheli? returned later, they said. He was the man with the cigarette, then. It had to be him. But then, how he could be there 'to watch the tragedy of the night simply by lighting a cigarette, as it was more' natural world? and you? her 'cause she thought about now? He had to quit, quit, quit. And stop thinking. Enough, she told herself.