He wrote a novel which told the story of a writer. This writer felt on his shoulder to ask the hand of a writer, writing a novel, provided her advice that a writer had entrusted to him. With this unexpected help the writer wrote, thereby responding to the pressure of the hand on his shoulder, at the insistence of the hand of all paved with bad intentions. This arrangement was born of a nebula writers who each have more to say than the other, to worry about the page that will remain forever as this mix of white writers pulled the case down because it is known, nothing is worse than this gathering of fantasy that can only lead to bad feelings and bad literature. Striving to drive this hand, which raised on his shoulder was a little bird of prey qu'apprivoise the falconer, he dropped his pen pricked right there in the floor allowing it to flow like tears on his cheek ink timber.
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