Makes sense in northern climates people are losing their gloves.
Yan always forgot his umbrella.
I mean the mother of that house knew by heart every object going in or out. New stuff always got her attention.
I grew up in fiction.
What the rest called lying.
There lied my true desires.
Father lived in Germany and had 4 more kids with another woman.
I would like to focus on my collection of death notices.
Or in the brief history of objects.
Or why I have total lack of smell.
Or why I ended up hating deodorants.
But I have to work at some point.
Maybe if someone told me that I should my own father, that would have helped.
