I lived in a flat until I was five. The house was a brick for my father.
A watt was built. There was reportedly no protection.
Step, pick up the brick hand. Ten fingers.
There's blood, so for this house and the inside
My father remembers more than I do.
Deeper. It's from Father.
About the story after I just walked.
I don't have any memory, so I belong.
My part should be more posteriori.
According to the traditional rules of design, there are flats.
East and West. The west room is the parents' room, the east room.
It was used as a storehouse because of the small family.
It is mainly the storage of food and temporary furniture.
The children who have just learned to walk will probably look like they found a new continent.
Except for running around, touching this, playing with that.
Hands are not free. I can't help it.
The kids who walk, they just scratch.
Put down two moves, and as for conscious participation
I don't know. I fell on my uncle's treasure the other day.
It's old wine and it's starting to mess up in the storeroom.
He said he didn't know what was going on, so I caught him.
The lids are starting to beat. Side
He said he heard a stinging scream. When the adults are anxious
And he came to me in a hurry, and he only saw me pressing the veil
"ao!ao!ao!" Red
"Bite" is the word "ao" because of the lack of clarity about dialects and children's narrations.
It's only when you look at it that you find the lid on your penis.
Red and red.
Listen to what I'm shouting. Father immediately understood...
It's hot in the summer.
It's mostly the height of a small face.
It should be like my legs back then, so...
I don't know what happened to my penis, but I've been...
The lid that fell off the hand, the pain of the heart
Let me see if there's anything that bites.
Monsters. Maybe I'm scared.
The more it hurts not to let that monster bite out
The more you think it's scary inside, the more it is.
I feel like the more I push it down. You're making people.
I can't stop crying. This thing followed my whole childhood.
It's kind of a childhood shadow.
Actually, for the description after the last one
Whether it's true, because it's the father's story and it's from
His angle, I don't have much memory.
I don't know. If Father's description is true
And then I had enough imagination.
For a bite like that, you might even eat.
The fear of a monster's image should be with Alan Lostonka.
When the rocks sew, the fear of death is
Not on top. I'm just facing the need to sacrifice myself.
Part of the body is a complex problem.
I am not able to balance the gains and the losses, but I am more decisive.
Of course I didn't understand myself then.
What this part of the future that has been the subject of discussion means to me.
If the father's description is only his subjective guess
It wasn't what I thought.
It may not exist either. But at the same time
Does that mean that age consciousness, too?
Even if it's part of your body.
Adults seem to have a real connection.
So profoundly conscious. I don't know.
The scoffing that comes from something like this will haunt you.
It's true that you were a child.
Since then, the feeling has been disgusted. When it's older
I'd try to hide it with some plausible analysis.
This lingering embarrassment, the extent of it.
It's not about whether I tell anyone, it's about...
Prove it or not, and if so
What was the logic of my behavior then?
"I'm watching."