Pilar Pujol

Beautiful port! Thank you for adding us to your friends list. Much love.

Arto.

Pues a Pilar otro beso, mas fuerte si cabe...jeje

ya falta poco para salir de la jaula, venga ese ánimo Pilar ;)

No kreo ke ese momento estuviera tenso, mi cara no suele reflejar mi estado de animo. Ahora a parte de las ojeras y los ojos rojos me siento "relativamente" bien

Hola Pilar, me pegué un hostión con la moto en la carretera y no me muevo de la cama/sofa. Tengo dos costillas fisuradas por lo que tengo para rato... Espero que todo te vaya de PM.

TUYO TUYO TUYO TUYO?????? WOOOOOOORALE! ;) FELICIDADES PRECIOSA! QUE TENGAS MUCHA SUERTE! Y NO OLVIDES ENVIARME LA CARPETA! :P BESO HERMOSA!

guapa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!petonarros!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hola Pilar, muchas gracias por el add. esperamos que te gusten nuestras versiones, y de paso te dejamos un regalito.

Un saludote!!!!!!

¡Gracias, señorita! ¡Don Páramo está contento de ser su amigo! ¡Tendrá noticias mías en mi blog!:
http://donparamo.wordpress.com/

Hola!! Mañana jueves 21 estamos en la sala Sidecar junto al grupo Flow. A las 22h. la diversión está asegurada, y habrá sorpresas!! Abrazos

Many thanks
for finding us. Your taste in music has something perfect!
What do you like in our music?
Best from France
ASMD

GRACIAS POR EL ADD Y MIL MILLONES DE MONTONES DE BESOS

“A hand groped its way over the riven floorboards.
My mad laughter choked in my throat. All hysteria melted into numb bloodlessness.
With terrible, vengeful slowness, a wracked figure pulled itself up from darkness, and a half-skull peered at me. Beetles crawled over the fleshless forehead. A rotted cassock clung to the askew hollows of mouldered collarbones. Only the eyes lived - red, insane pits that glared at me with more than lunacy; they glared with the empty life of the pathless wastes beyond the edges of the Universe.
It came to take me down to darkness.

That was when I fled screeching, leaving the body of my lifelong friend unheeded in that place of dread. I ran until the air seemed to burst like magma in my lungs and brain. I ran until I had gained this possessed and tainted house again, and my room, where I collapsed and have lain like a dead man until today. I ran because even in my crazed state, and even in the shattered ruin of that dead-yet-animated shape, I had seen the family resemblance. Yet not of Philip or of Robert, whose likenesses hang in an upstairs gallery. That rotted visage belonged to James Boon, Keeper of the Worm!”

Stephen King “Jerusalem's Lot” (1978)