The fortune of the millionaire.

The fortune of the millionaire.

Decreased your strength, for the written law in yellowish papyruses, the low man the middlings in the presence of who has assumed loyalty to the there writing.
Subdued almost without own will, has surrendered and lost your instinct and it shows to the convert life in automaton.
Completely storm clouds the impulses that separated it sometime of the beasts and did sometime feel it “amor”, walk on thoses that it crossed for your road in the warm embrace of the fraternal camaraderie of the sincere friendship, and to all they put you stone to death without names.
Today converted in swordfish of your fantastic world to steps achieved, takes to the one that it will be your empress, to transform it in a queen bee, for the raising of your small drones, and unconscious someone will see livelihood the single years as a fulfilled notebook.
Blinded for all that shines, that in the place that calls “mi castillo”, single will listen the echo of your own voice, and that in the reflex of your wine wineglass imported, perhaps there in that moment, when see that your hair is white, and that your face is not the same that those of the portrait on the chimney, and on the other hand that the face of the other square in the hall, that do not change never, for that the woman painted a portrait of there, is not, does a lot of time already,
recently there important, that between all your expensive trophy and jewels, the more beautiful possession than taenia has left by taking your beauty and youth with it, near the laugh edges and games of the childrens, that went sometime single part of the landscape that never appraised.
Seated in the border of your bed, it will see on the small table at night a paper with a number of telephone, and written in the the “Te sentence will love forever…”, but it won't be until the day in which mathematically not shoe you nowhere of the equation the “amor” word, when decide analyze which it was always there and loathe the sight of in it more that single numbers in the familiar census.
They will open someone's eyes the following tomorrow, but in the single mirror will see the vacuum that today single flood the inert image of the square on the chimney and that then it has cost you, already in the top of it panted, the real felicity, that not is of value the cover of lizard of the |chequera| that covered the false smiles after the windshield of the edict of the year.
Assuming already late that loneliness, will search for satisfy your vain need to figure in the presence of the others as a full character, by blaming always to the others of your own bankruptcies, and manifesting spontaneously a security in the act as if was an is perfect, a demigod, perhaps a modern “Rey Midas”, when really, which it has touched, single has converted it powdered.
Between the luxury and the privacy of your great single house regrets to him and curses for the abandon, of the one which proclaims, went a “victima”.
But is someone your ego and nonsense that under no circumstances will recognize that all pasts years, really had all. Value that really it possessed all that in all conscience it dream all sometime, it was owner of an incalculable fortune,…
…the unconditional love of your spouse and children.