People may come and go but my awkward talking skill will always remain the same. What is worse than silence is wrong noise, indeed. Filthy weather. This afternoon, I saw my father getting blushed when one of the kittens approached him. His sensitivity cracked through his cement skin "like a virgin touched for the very first time." The kitten was anything but conscious of his direction. As I whistled towards him, he turned around hesitatedly, then to the right and the left. For short, I gave him a signal from one of the four winds, and he chose to walk to the other threes. His young sense of hearing was very lovely. I want to get close to the kittens to find out which one suits me the most. I assume the one without any stripes, who almost got out of the bed by bending below the wooden bar instead of hopping over it like his brothers. I said almost because after going halfway, he decided to return to his bed. Very me, indeed. I want to name him Yves, pronounced as Eve without the "s". I want to keep him near, feed and protect him. The other two kittens are beautiful. All are golden and striped in the same color. They are louder and more active. I must say I enjoy playing with the fluffies so much that I forgot their mother was right next to me. She enjoyed my pampering, too, with a lot of caution I think. Miu Miu, her name is. If I'm allowed to keep the other two, I will name them Hedi and Simon. Together, we'll have a fashion empire in a humble, humid room.
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