Блог памяти Федора Михайловича Достоевского с… / My wife as a Sinead Any Los Angelos (real life investigative report)

Any site that a search will give out for Sinead O’Connor will be a sort of style as adding colour to a rot story. A lesbian punk is absent in agreeable literature at schools, so she was an ideal enforcer intolerant to the kneeling apologies of the papal Rome. Be it out of the said music culture. Out of punk that she suffered a lot. Meaningfully, for one. And a punk lover she met in a distant from home Belgian Raubich. A Valahian demon, my boy, she would say if not a devil had knocked on her train window across a European greenlessness. As a girl she was coming out of a Scottish clan mistakenly held for an Irish nobility. And she had it coming to famous producer Shawn Connery as a friend of family among the distant relatives of the clan. So to avoid clashes and scandals that have been so abrogating her further path in the a profession of singer, she was taken to Ireland to master the Catholism. As far as not aggravated by the sins of the interclanly distributed forefathers, the country of Ireland is a hub for keeping in itself an ancient mysticism. Never in a mind to care of a child enough. To come together with progress the youth would make, say so. So it was a firm decision by her family and someone else, known a child was a hard offspring to grow. With time passed we all know as a formal fact that she was seemingly hard amongst boys with eagerness for independence, which marked her at a school of music maybe with all new rhymes of a guitar still tuned to a native Great Britain, not to the Irish folk. But punk somehow coincided. A punk, a one. Sex Pistols was evidently an end of all this at the beginning. The Cure called for a pop. A vacancy was opened with the morality changed for arms morals in the outcry of the Chernogoryan war. Not just sometime lated but well a decade in a pass, she was clearly seen in Chernogorya for a resting travel. With maybe some general of the Serbian army. A maimed face of Milosevic was that of a punk, so sorry to say. And an interest of secrecy in trenched uniforms was namely after him. So she was not persecuted in her youth in the native Ireland that gave her an upbringing of an émigré. I wonder if an international financial group examined finally the sponsoring of a punk one. Or all these war are above funding, unethically as it was. Kind hearted and generous to fans but what a good boss to a political fellow partisan as she was well known for her attempts to penetrate the course of Sinn Feign. Any account of the story making these politics a nightmare to her next in kin was provided by a European tourist guide by way of the collection of any sort of the left documents following her solitary trips to Yugoslavia. The investigation was hard. A trace of the follower was everywhere as we met a glance of a stranger. And even a similar document could be figuratively slipped as an input. In our country permits we were even less of the clandestine. posted on Aug, 4 2017 @ 03:04 link edit quote reply To share something as urgent as possible, the friend of mine in a company of investigators was a former KGB officer for organized crime. A music amateur, he will be later figured out as a fan to train new KGB elites to the rythms of music. An Irish tune was my cast. As at the university of linguistics my humble choice was Ireland. So I possessed some country knowledge by the date we made an appointment with a witness of her trips. He also knew Europe as a whole ancient soil under a threat to come apart in a war of members against each other. So was the war she was in, we all thought. But an account of her trips led us to Brussels on which a sign was put as Europe’s military might. It was only in Brussles that she met a boy, amids a scandal of Detroux she never belonged to. But he gave her a sign of being eager with two girls, one Sinead from Scotland, another an Irish mistress rover. And he was in a life bound with the Serbian group “Laibach”. Before it was Joy Division, and the traces of the music change are lost in Brussels. Maybe mind programming with Yan Kertis was not for her. What else to say yet again facing her anywhere admirably? A selective artist fancy dressed with the “Laibach”. And, she was sad for him at all. 

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  • bizzar
  • 2 января 2019 20:00
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ninel учора ў 18:05
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