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… he said; his hands trembling with nervous
again。
…How so? … Vanessa asked。 … A university with a decent program deliteratura means you have
to kill。
…Yeah; but I speak of dombrio; My poems are even 。。。 … Dan stopped。 The poems were his
personal; were what they were。 And it seemed weird to have a lot of them an official
admission in any of Columbia; or Brown; or Vassar; as if his soul desnudando and a plete
stranger could not have read the works of Goethe; Sartre and Camus and not understand your
references oblique to them。
…Did you know that you can even try to publish their stuff? … Vanessa suggested。 …That would
leave the staff of the university's admission pletely convinced about you。
Dan put the cigarette end of empty cigarette in a can of Coca…Cola。
…Yeah; okay … he said。 He liked to write; but no way is ready to send your stuff to a
publisher。 Not even find your voice yet。 He knew that。 Each new poem that I wrote seemed
different from the older。
Vanessa is seated again。
…What? I'm talking sério。Você should do that。
Dan adunfou further in blankets。
…Whatever … he muttered without enthusiasm。 I was not ready for sex and not estavapronto to
be published。 Now she felt even more inadequate。
Vanessa knew that when I was back Horadada。 She breathed fund and channeled his inner
kitten; one that just came out of his corner in hot heater when Dan needed a strong kiss on
his cute face。
She deslizou covered under the breast and kissed him。
…One more week and we can spend all the time so the holidays … she muttered。
Unlike most members of the class at Constance Billard and Riverside Prep; or Vanessa or
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