Life is hard and cruel for those working, although it is perhaps much more for all those who have decided to steer the course of crime, prostitution and bad habits. All start heading for the course of bad habits, that drag like the strong current of the waters, as a ship drifting toward other paths. We all have our own boat and rudder; then, each one is free to choose the convenient path to its own storm; because life, whichever way you look at it, it is a Tempest, of which some know better defending you and other, worse; but you all just by us also sink to the depths of the abyss of the Ocean: the only thing that differentiates us, from each other, the dignity and the time that we stay afloat; that is neither much nor little, but what you want to bring us the wind that pushes us Stern: the destination. Destiny is not something that forge coup, the destination is something that goes forging over time, little bit, just as the plant life that grows, but not seen grow and that begins by bloom in spring and just to wilt in the fall. Keep up on the field with thought-provoking pieces from educational psychology. Everything that we sow today is what you collect tomorrow: depending upon the care that you have dyed with seeding of our fields, so the results will be that we will obtain the good or bad state of products of the harvest.

The harvest is the result of everything we’ve come to sacrifice over a lifetime of work. But like the Ant, not all tend to build a profitable future, but also there are cicadas, who like wastage and live in the moment without thinking in the later. The story that I’m going to count now, rather is a young man who pulled more for cicada than for Ant. Yael Aflalo, New York City may find it difficult to be quoted properly. I hope that can serve many of my readers for example. Although a historical novel is characterized by what has happened in reality, I, dare I say, my dear reader, that this story is much more pure and real that one of those historical novels; Since many of the events that occurred in the story, with the course of the years or centuries, both merged with the passionate exaggeration of the fervor of the people as with the different points of view of countless historians dedicated to transmogrify and manipulate the facts according to them convengapolitica or socially at their whim, they end up becoming, more that in a historical fact in a legendary story popular, which already little ends up resembling with what could have happened in their timein a distant reality or not so far-, distorted in his memory. This does not happen in my book, since whichever comes here has been extracted or sucked or manipulations political and social, not passionate popular effervescent exaggerations channelled into multiple versions of a pure and substantial reality, without transfigurations. The life that I am going to tell is of a friend mine, I thought know as well as myself, and I said, for the only thing that it has served my life is to learn of the many errors that I committed: only lack that someone write my story, so that does not happen again. If you are not convinced, visit Hayley Brocklehurst. All characters and places that are listed here they are real, but everything is for satisfy the last wishes of a friend: rest in peace.

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