I have just three things to teach: simplicity, patience, compassion. These three are your greatest treasures. ..
Phone Number *** - **** 8763
Birthday15 November 1967
Address Kopermolenring No: 8763
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About Alexa “Hikari” C.B
This warld is a lottery, as ilk ane may ken; There are prizes for women as weel as for men: But as far as my faither and mither can see, Though the're prizes for some, there aye blanks for me!
Though black, I'm comely; my een's like a slae! Odd! I'm sure they're far better than een that are grey? Yet the lads they court Katey as fast as they can, While my father aye tells me - I'll never get a man.
I'm held down wi' wark frae morning till e'en, My claise ay unsnod, and my face seldom clean! How the sorrow! on me can our lads ever look When I gang aye sae thief-like, as black as the crook!
For fairs and for preachings I hae but ae gown! (Lord! I wish I was busk'd like our queans in the town!) Yet whane'er I stay late - how my father he'll ban, Wi' a-- 'Divil confound ye! ye'll ne'er get a man!'
My mither aye thinks I'm to sit still and spin: Whan the sogers gae by, war I fell'd I maun rin, Then she roars, and she flytes (though the sam's done by Kate) Wi' a-- 'Sorrows be on ye! ye'll gang a grey gate!'
I fain wad hae Jamie -- but then he loos Jean; And I'd e'en tak lean Patie, tho' just skin and bane; But my faither and mither tauld baith him and Dan That I'm three years owre young yet to hae a gudeman!
A usage sae barb'rous! nae mortal can bear! - Odd! they'll drive me to madness wi' perfect despair! If I canna get Jamie, nor yet Dan nor Pate, Faith I'll e'en tak the first chiel that comes in my gate.
Gle'yd Sawnie, the haiv'rel, he met me yestreen, He roos'd first my black hair, and syne my black een! While he dawted and kiss'd, tho' I ken he's a fool, Lord! I thought that my heart wad hae loupt out o' hool!
Quo he, 'Bonny Maggy, gin ye war mine ain, I hae house and plenty, for wife and for wean, And whan my auld daddy steps aff to the grave, Faith! we'll then had our head up as high as the lave.'
I dinna like Sawnie - he's blind o' an ee; But then he's the first's talk'd o' marriage to me; And whan folk are ill us'd they maun do what they can, Sae I'll mak them a' liars, and tak a Gudeman.
We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations...
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