"Not a sublime intelligence, nor imagination nor both together make genius.
Love, love, that is the soul of genius"
WAM. Primus Hermosa
Ceps, explores with his fingertips the softness of a blanket for her newly flattened, in his eyes reveals a kind of awe, an emotion appearing overwhelmed, irrepressible, letting out a shriek of a bird just thrilled. ;
Something unspeakable is stopped by a hand the size of your head, look carefully hoping to discover if that object has its own life or if you have the magical quality of show crescents, as these giants that rise in arms. Presumed that the new sound is part of a language which will soon learn, is not prepared to understand more than feelings, and only know that those half moons are drawn between them signify joy.
not understand why the non-movement, driving his hands and does make it go away, happy, surprised by that force which is opposed by air resistance discovered her five month old baby is not defined in his brain but the experience makes mark eternal.
The thrown object starts running and rumbling the walls with the most splendid sound alignment, immediately, the music of a genius draws crescents of satisfaction among the giants. Mozart never imagined that the beautiful Primus Ceps love him through his enduring creation: Symphony No. 40.
The thrown object starts running and rumbling the walls with the most splendid sound alignment, immediately, the music of a genius draws crescents of satisfaction among the giants. Mozart never imagined that the beautiful Primus Ceps love him through his enduring creation: Symphony No. 40.
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