when summer is flirting.


Do you really have to be carried to the beach with the boiling sand?

No, but you have to help me by giving me a little distraction with your chit-chat. although I don't know if you are a rubens fan, because today the right sun shines to burn a liberty portrait into your back, especially on this extremely hot sand, until in the evening fat mosquitoes from the swamp plants again press their eyes against the reflective water surface and suck themselves lustfully into the depth. Same as Harvey? Yeah - or not. I'm actually getting more and more in favor of tango. Isn't that a beautiful trump of delusion? word has already got around that hot sausages are now also traded on the stock exchange, although whole tourist loads are not badly astonished when sharks sing under the sun shield, accompanied by lizards and flamingos. by the way, heidi suffers a relapse accompanied by sobs under the influence of mosquitoes from time to time. what are you trying to tell me? actually nothing, but at 33 degrees there may be a way out of the cookie box. let's talk about something else. have you already activated the snooze function in your brain or is this pretty little hairstyle covering up the long suppressed depravity of bygone times? You never quite understand sirens. but I mean, they did what they had to do, and that's the way it is. Although they have no idea that old men can also trigger shark alarms. . . . and I thought that was the fridge. There shines a bit further down, next to the beach bar, a money temple, where gorillas in uniform, turn the sand into heavy water and quietly hum - Once upon a time . . . feeling blue