My secret to escape from prison

My secret to escape from prison

Here are the variants that threaten us. Scientists expect our experiments to end in the spring of 2022.

On a daily basis, we go from hope to despair and from excitement to despair. Netflix and other platforms can no longer drag us out of our own climate for a year.

Better a poor horse than no horse at all. Better a poor horse than no horse at all.

A news item that appeared recently made me happy. This year, the lakes will stagnate a month earlier than expected. I stayed up all night thinking about my log fishing camp on the edge of a small lake near the Rapid-Blanc Dam, which is celebrated by many singers.

For a few years, I left my camp to my son, to whom I passed on my passion for fishing, which I would pass on to my little Rose.

My camp is a haven, an animal, in this place, away from the broken track, in search of more unbearable, more playful sensations for the more lonely, trendy city dwellers.

From there, I gained physical knowledge of the vastness of the country and the silences full of hints about the presence of animals and fish. I was sometimes thrilled to see the proud plume moose swim with the grace of the ballerina and move without creating waves.

I fished every day with patience that no one would suspect me of. In the pouring rain, I paralyzed the valley by making fun of them when I was able to roam freely with the desires I had acquired on many of my travels. In Ireland I exploited fishing shops.

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I have a good knowledge of the valley from my lake. I know how to identify their favorite places. They sometimes surprise me and try to discourage me. But in the evening, they do not resist the spoons that bother and swallow them, because the valley does not have the instability of trout.

My biggest catch was eight years ago, because the size of the captured walia is now limited to three pounds, I believe. With my fishing buddy, I pulled out a six pound valley in the dark. At first I thought I was hooking up a stump because we were fishing a few feet below. My hypocritical friend pointed to me with a wave of his hand that it was a well-hung wall. By rewinding my reel, I found the “monster”. After taking it, I kissed her.

In fact, fishing has taught me a lot about humans. In the media, the volley is less than that of a pirate, a rolling musculature, or an angry trout.

I fished for salmon and I have the greatest respect for it. He is a decent fighter. This fish is also rare in the wonder world of the media.

I will be returning to my log cabin this summer. Rose will be four years old in May, and I will give her her first fishing rod. This is called generation transmission. I want her to love this peaceful country where we fit in with each other.

It is very far from our present forest.

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