The first voice kept in the pleasure of its own sonority the fascinated eyes remind themselves

 The first voice kept its timbre melodie modulation rhythm cadence lips captivated by themselves in the pleasure of their own sonority gloating scattered by the fascinated eyes clean shadows But for his jump they jump into the liquid of the eyes in their danger floating oppressive crouched where I believe you of love lost to moment moment they bring what begins with the encounter as precise as a dance of hands when the last hours of the hands arrive