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They called Peter, I do not know if it really was that his name, but I did not care what his name was, what I liked were their stories. Always wrote in the morning, saying that he loved to tell at that time, feeling the birds sing;Once, he told me a little bird, who saw him writing a story about the feathers of a dove, all birds watching him as he wrote, wanted to know what was written, and when Peter finished writing about the feathers of the dove, let go the little bird and let it fly. All other birds not lost sight while flying and, curiously reached to read:
- The birds are born with many feathers in his body, but no one has taught them to write, maybe if someone teach them, could write many stories in the air, for children to read outdoors, imagine every day, learn to birds always cast their imaginations, and this is true, they say that, whenever the birds sing, it is because something is imagining, and if they sing every day and every moment, is because your life is surrounded by fantasy, adventure and imagination.
- The birds are born with many feathers in his body, but no one has taught them to write, maybe if someone teach them, could write many stories in the air, for children to read outdoors, imagine every day, learn to birds always cast their imaginations, and this is true, they say that, whenever the birds sing, it is because something is imagining, and if they sing every day and every moment, is because your life is surrounded by fantasy, adventure and imagination.
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800 es en ingles : eight hundred
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One day I was sitting washing their clothes and spend a handsome, healthy, and chivalrous.
As usual she fell in love with the young gentleman.
The young man did the same fell in love, together and inseparable.
Someday I have to finish it?
In the morning the next day, the boy came walking while she slept comfortably.
Suddenly a girl of seventeen collided with the young man.
She fell in love to see your face so brig