Muscle Beach Venice

Santa Monica Beach in the passing years. The world is famous at the end of Highway 66, the turn of Highway 1. The world wants to accompany you for the New Year, but you come through time and space to accompany me. By the sea, you are cool and beautiful; when you rise, the palm trees recline on both sides. Riding the sea breeze, you come to accompany me, the feet are waves and years, long hair drifting, coconut fruit countless fall. I will pour ink on the sand with wind and rain: dear May, dear Debbie, dear Monica We will gather at dusk, or tomorrow night or the day after tomorrow, the day after midnight, the moment screams, the sound of the sea undulating, On the beach, if the bells of the field are far away, the hand of the swing wind, the hair is licked, the plum blossoms are blooming in the winter night, the fishy face of spring, the hustle and bustle of the sea, the trembling and the sea flowers are in the porcelain, dreamed, the wild is full of wonders, some people moan, some people walk, wild or sleepwalk too far, Discrete horse riding, fork in the road, the horse's back fell stiffly before the shout, can not hear, blood dripping from the face mist from the window and the door into the room

This has been planted for a long time, today finally has time, no thunder at all, the whole process is very enjoyable

Always very intimate, the service is very warm, there is really nothing to say, it is over