was little I dreamed that my wrists opened their eyes and began to talk and tell tall tales, then spent a great time over coffee and biscuits. Now I have twenty-six and the other day I passed by a cafe and saw that my dream had come true. A woman was chatting happily while drinking coffee, was about fifty years and his skin was so stretched and her lips so perfect that it looked like my Barbie Sparkling was really alive. But I do not know, suddenly I felt a sense of sadness and began to remember that with age my dream I stopped talking dolls, I guess I realized that I woke up in me any real sense, any kind of affection. I guess I started to realize that people around me, real people, was what really made me happy ... and that is making me happy, my mother with wrinkles so pretty in my eyes, my friends all so cute with their imperfections they are so good ... Then I realized that the feeling of sadness that was plaguing me was because he understood that this society was becoming a major toy maker chain where we no longer seem to ourselves to become that, in talking dolls.
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