AlessadraJones

Hello welcome to my room, here you will find my description and a little history about me. I am characterized by being a simple woman with a spontaneous and romantic heart I love to talk, listen to music and enjoy wonderful moments and pleasures of life. In my room you will find naughty moments with soft caresses, sweet words that will make us explode with joy, I love tender, loving, sincere men, with natural forms and and beautiful spoken or romantic expression I LOVE LATERNURA LA SONRISA THE AWAKENING OF A BEAUTIFUL DAWN COLMADO OF KISSES TEAR CARICES THAT COME TO YOU TO THE HEART LETTING OUR FANTASIES FLOW SLOWLY AND MAKE OF OUR MEETING SOMETHING MAGIC AND FASCINATING I LOVE PLASMAR MY EYES IN YOUR BER THE SOFT BRISE RUN LOW WITH SOFT CARICES ASEMOS QUE SUSEDA LO MAS ROMANTICO A CALOR DE UNA VELADADA DONDE FLUYAN LOS MAS BEAUTIFUL DESIRES BETWEEN YOUR AND I HOPE TO SEE YOU VERY SOON IN MY ROOM TO TALK ABOUT WHAT GIVES US MORE PLEASURE IN LIFE Thank you dear

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WELCOME TO A WORLD OF FANTASIES.

cuirize pedagogy. fantasies of a sticky knowledge[1]

What fantasies does the gesture of entering pedagogy by the saliva activate? how can we make saliva a pedagogical stage from which to dismantle a normative relationship with knowledge? how does a bodily fluid get into an act of knowledge? what sexual policy mobilizes putting saliva at the center of pedagogical thought? What place does saliva occupy in the school curriculum? *** what place does fantasy occupy in our educational programs? Fantasy is part of the articulation of the possible. The work of fantasy modifies the language of the norm. It encourages an experience of undoing certain normative restriction to inaugurate a new habitability of the body, postulating a different future for the norm itself.. Fantasy challenges the limits of what has been learned and allows us to widen the “imaginary domain”, that space of proliferating desire in which “our sense of freedom is intimately linked to the renewal of the imagination.””. Cuirizing pedagogy becomes a kind of “imaginative training for an epistemological performance”, a walk through the interstices of the enchastre looking for the rhythm of the sticky resonance, like a machine of asking questions to disarticulate the sexual norms that govern our lives. human and non-human bodies. “Fantasies of a sticky knowledge” takes place not as a question already planted, but as the cultivation of a corporal curiosity, a political intrepideness and an aesthetic greed to build or invent a problem, to practice another way of sexual dissent in education.. Cuirizing pedagogy is a way of (un)making knowledge and bodies, norms and languages, affects and contexts, which aims to plague with seismic questions, a field historically prone to prescription, definition, stability, formulas, binarisms, models, habits and the like.. To dig into the viscous threshold of the wrong lines of ideas to find where meaning breaks, paying attention to the conditions that allow normality to exercise control. *** ¿How did we learn to train our saliva? When do we feel that our saliva thickens, abounds, overflows the mouth, or is scarce until our speech dries up? Are there salivas that matter more than others? Are there disposable salivas? Are there salivas that carry the consistency of the undesirable? What stories of insults, exclusions and infamies run through our saliva? What epistemology of pleasures do we imagine with all these salivas together in a scenario of majority right-winging? II: What is done with saliva in academic corridors? What will happen to the programs, to the topics, to the agendas, if we let saliva run around their edges? If academic writings build an affective disposition towards the transparent, orderly and clean in the bodily practices of thought, does the textual entrapment become an inappropriate writing? What kind of relationship of knowledge and perceptual disturbance is built between a fluid that is privatized as of intimacy with a signifier such as education that seems to speak of the public? What other ways of making educational experience can we try to construct saliva as a desiring assemblage?? ***

The good darkness

A naked woman in the dark generates a glow that gives confidence so that if a blackout or a distress occurs it is convenient and even essential to have a naked woman at hand then the walls are watercolored the ceiling becomes sky the spiders webs vibrate at their angle the almanacs are on Sunday and happy and felin eyes look and they don't get tired of looking at a naked woman and in the dark a woman dear or to be exorcised for once death.

You and us

You when you love demand well-being a cedar bed and a special mattress we when we love it is easy to fix with sheets what good without sheets no matter you when you love calculate interest and when you desama calculate again we when we love it is like reborn and if we desamamos not the we have fun you when you love are of another magnitude there are photos gossip press and love is a boom we when we love is a common love as simple and as tasty as having health you when you love consult the clock because the time you lose is worth half a million we when we love without haste and with fervor enjoy and we get cheap the function you when they love the analyst van he is who dictates if they do it well or bad us when we love without so much courtesy the subconscious piola gets to enjoy you when they love demand well-being a cedar bed and a special mattress us when we love it's easy to fix with sheets how good without sheets doesn't matter.

Shaving it, Quevedo Shaving it was a certain beautiful, up to the belly all rolled up sleeves, legs wide open, and seated in a wide and spacious chair. She was very happy looking at it, after she had shaved herself very well, and while she was mocking, she put her finger inside the thing.. And as he shook his hips, to the used bait responding, a certain taste gave him then. But when he saw that it was not true, he said, “I am saved! What am I doing? That this is not the wood of this fire».

Woman's body,

white hills, white thighs, you look like the world in your attitude of surrender. My wild peasant body undermines you and makes the son jump from the bottom of the earth. I was alone like a tunnel. From me the birds fled and into me the night entered its powerful invasion. To survive I forged you like a weapon, like an arrow in my bow, like a stone in my sling. But the time for revenge has come, and I love you. Of a fat content, by weight, exceeding 13%. Oh, the breast glasses! Ah the eyes of absence! Oh, the pubes! Ah, your slow, sad voice! Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace. My thirst, my boundless yearning, my indecisive path! Dark channels where eternal thirst follows, and fatigue follows, and infinite pain.

Simple Words of Poet

I dreamed of a maiden who slept with a gentleman whom she loved tenderly, and in whom everything was diligent and careless none had. She, though badly, at last resisted, saying, “What will people say of me? ”, in effect fulfilled his accident, giving the two finish to his porfía. The gallant kissed her and embraced her warmer than a burning wood; the sweetness to pour did not begin, when he awoke, and said to the dream: To last a little longer, what cost you, for for me it was no small pleasure?”

I think about your sex. Simplified heart, I think of your sex, before the mature son of the day. I feel the button of happiness, it's in season. And an old feeling dies degenerated into sanity. I think of your sex, furrow more prolific and harmonious than the belly of the shadow, though death conceives and stops of God himself. Oh Conscience, I think, yes, of the free brute who enjoys where he wills, where he can. Oh honey scandal of the twilight. Oh, the silent roar. ¡Odumodneurtse! 6 The waiting, Knight Bonald And you tell me that you have your breasts overcome to wait for me, that your eyes hurt to have them empty of my body, that you have lost even the touch of your hands to feel this absence in the air, that you forget the warm size of my mouth. And you tell me that you know I bleed in the words of repeating your name, of beating my lips with thirst to have you, of giving to my memory, recording it blindly, a new way to rescue you in kisses from the absence in which you scream to me that you are waiting for me. And you tell me that you are so made for this uninhabited leisure of my flesh that hardly your shadow is revealed, that hardly you are certain in this darkness that the distance puts between your body and mine. 7 Pandemic and celestial, Gil de Biedma Because it is not the impatience of the orgasm seeker who pulls me from the body to other bodies to be possibly young: I also pursue the sweet love, the tender love to sleep next to and that cheer my bed when waking up, close as a bird. ¡If I can never undress, if I have never been able to enter into an arms without feeling - even if it is nothing more than a moment equal dazzling than at twenty years! To know of love, to learn it, to have been alone is necessary. And it is necessary in four hundred nights - with four hundred different bodies - to have made love. That its mysteries, as the poet said, are of the soul, but a body is the book in which they are read. And so I'm glad I rolled over the thick sand, both half-dressed, while I was looking for that shoulder tendon.

The Art of Seduction

Your lips, soft and seductive, are petals of passion that awaken my loves. When they touch mine, the world stops, and in that instant, I belong only to you, woman. Your lips are the door to the desired ecstasy, a kiss of yours, the most desired paradise. Its flavor, a mixture of honey and ambrosia, is the nectar of the gods that drives you crazy every day.

Your smile is the most powerful weapon, capable of conquering any butterfly. When your lips curve in a heavenly gesture, my heart surrenders to so much natural beauty. Is your smile a ray of sunshine in the winter, a cool breeze in an eternal desert. Captivating with every laughter and flashes joy, your smile, woman, is the melody that guides my soul.

Your hands exploring my skin, our bodies in an endless dance. The passion rises to the sky, while our moans are the only sound in the room. This poem immerses us in a passionate dance between two lovers. Through a sensual and evocative language, the author invites us to witness the physical and emotional connection between two bodies who are completely given to pleasure..

In your eyes I find my refuge, I navigate in the immensity of your gaze. Your lips are sweet caresses, that awaken my soul in love. Your laughter is heavenly music, it lights my dark path. Your voice is a soft melody, caressing my pure heart. Every word of yours, is like an eternal verse. In every gesture of yours, I find sincere love. You're the dream I never want to wake up, the reason I smile without ceasing. You are the longing that beats in my chest, the light that illuminates my narrow universe. For in you I find full happiness, and in your arms, my love, I surrender myself without sorrow. Let this sincere poem be my statement, I love you with all my soul, without hesitation.

I LOVE ME AS I AM, I LOVE WHAT I AM

The body remembers, writes Sándor Márai, as if it were talking about someone else, and it is true. The skin that covers it is responsible for engraving names and surnames. Faces remain in the hands, and do not fade in the white of the nights. The back has its own neurons that remember nails with your fingers. Thighs, with arms, retain forever the softness of the sides. The body remembers, and its memories speak of splendours and humidities. "Memory of the body", by Alejandro Oliveros. Alejandro Oliveros (1948) is currently one of the most important Venezuelan poets. He studied medicine and then obtained a Bachelor of Education. In 1971 he founded the magazine Poesía and later directed Zona Tórrida until 2008. He lived in New York from 1978 to 1981, thanks to a grant from the Guggenheim Foundation. Since 1981 he has been a professor of English and American literature at the School of Letters of the Central University of Venezuela, and between 2004 and 2008 he was Head of the Department of Classical and Western Literatures.. Since 1996 he has been publishing, with annual deliveries, his Literary Journal of which thirteen volumes have appeared so far in various publishers. Translator from French, English and Italian, his poetic versions will be published soon in Voces ajenas. With ten poetry books published between.

Hand and Foot

¡Ah, what a nest of wild caresses I discovered! Keep in your forest from the dawn of the world, they waited for the hand that would come to tear them, the look that would pour them over your veins all, the trembling that would initiate your spasm and your madness. Waving in your awakened pupils, eyes dancing to the rhythm of the shoulders, long skin on its trembling root, the anxious stalactite of desire, snail embedding in the ears; your sudden, terrible eyes. ¡Oh your eyes! And madness, enchantment and more madness. ¡Panther that escapes, deer surrendered, the snake enveloping your arms, embrace of a thousand sailing lianas, long grass where breasts are born, hot cove of the thighs, beach with the white smoothness of your belly. And madness, tenderness and more madness. Resonant cadence of jungle music, night drum sounds on your back, the imperceptible flute of sigh, long groans of broken lips, and the everlasting cry so kept, at last the night breaks into sharp pieces. And madness, cadence and more madness. Caves, grottoes, lakes, light mosses; hanging mushrooms, thorns in your mouth; unknown fruits, uncovered juices; harvests in the dawn, thirst that is already quenched; veins that rebel, blood released; howling mare, rider that spurs. And madness, madness and more madness. ¡Oh what a nest of wild caresses I discovered! And what untouched voices in your pristine depths! And what flowers that open to the touch of my hands! My wild one; love me so, wrap me in your mist! And let us drink from the spring of this primitive madness!

Living Nature

Where the humidity is kept helpful and gentle and the breath of heat does not reach Mother Gea, rise, rise silent as slow words, in silence rise, rise these elves still hands. And when they have the hedgehog or the flamingos, they rest and remain beating with their mystery. ¡Don't pass by them, I say, leave them, they're sleeping! Because only I, ghost, do not bend them or hurt them. Hear them sleep, sleep without moving a hair. They do not live or die, they only listen to silence, and with silence they do something we do not know: children's dreams or dances of some naughty dwarfs. They are so asleep guarding their secret and maybe my own dream. Sleep the tall ferns silent as a secret, keep beating asleep like this, silent and beating. ¡How sweet his cold forehead and his aspiration to heaven! In the air they go and go and subtract, subtract, remain, and they resemble the monk who gives in his prayer the soul. Sleep the tall ferns that I will keep their sleep.

You are the portion of you in me, in the hole that our bodies cannot cover, if entangled they cohabit in a mass of embraces The infinite wrinkle formed in the sheet of our skin, the scattered curtain that floats wandering between the moans of a wounded animal The light of the alarm clock that flickers winking at the loving death, a drop of barefoot sweat that smashes on the ground, settles on my feet and evaporates The same wood forged in alabaster candied with the smell of cinnamon and mint, the rusty latch of old tricks, the mote of dust that frays into thousands of floating lights, motionless in the gravity of a faint reflection The picture that hangs at the headboard; Sinuous and reptilian hanging from hugging tulips The corner of the stained-glass window crack that lets out fluctuating swings of light: white opals that crash against the wall The narrow mattress that screams its unstable existence, the electric lamp that casts Chinese shadows and esparto grass You are the very room where, devoid of your particles, the alchemy of our bodies takes place

I greed your body, your soft skin slipping on mine. Your skin: map memorized in salt Greed that tongue palpit on my ledge pumping leg inside: ritual-awakening of our instincts, shared saliva, unison effluvia Greedy your simple nakedness, the decay of breaths, our lost looks that are sought, your neck open to me, the fragility of that momentary ascension that moves us to the body of the other where we die, Again, in life, where we live for a moment, in death

PALABRAS DE AGRADECIMIENTO:

Thank you for being there, in good and bad times, for your unconditional support, for your unparalleled friendship. Thank you for being my confidant, for listening to me without judgment, for your wise and honest advice, for your company in loneliness. Thank you for being my light in the darkness, for giving me hope and faith, for your warm and sincere smile, for being an angel in my life..

Thank you for your sincere friendship, for your loyalty and trust, for your laughter and your tears, which have been a gift in my life. Thank you for sharing your secrets with me, for listening to me and understanding you, for your words of encouragement and encouragement, which have given me strength and hope. Thank you for your gestures of friendship, for being there when I need you, for being my unconditional friend, for being part of my family

Thank you for your selfless help, for your generosity and solidarity, for your time and resources, which have made the impossible possible. Thank you for your commitment and dedication, for your professionalism and efficiency, for your experience and knowledge, which have been key to my success. Thank you for your humility and nobility, for your sensitivity and humanity, for being a true hero, who has made the difference in my life.

Thank you very much for visiting my profile grateful with you and meet you, big kisses.