If we wanted to, how could we possibly do it? Déjà vu doesn't come on demand, so we couldn't arrange a convenient suicide and then start a déjà vu... Nor does it operate on a known schedule. It's random as far as we could tell, and there'd been nothing in any of the medical literature we'd read that'd said otherwise. Everything we'd read blamed the infrequent irregularity of déjà vu for the lack of progress in understanding it. Our first merge had happened because we were lucky that we were. “I make the viewer work to find the meaning … look deep into the painting. Do you know why?” He asked and looked at her. “Do you know why I do this?”“Egotism?” She said and instantly regretted it.“Yes.” He laughed again. “I suppose in a way it is.” He looked at the painting and sighed. “But more then that … sex should not be easy. It should have to be worked at.” He looked at her and his eyes seemed to pierce into her. “This is part of my sex. My mind. My erotic nature. I don’t want to make. Woh mujhe beach par pahuchne se pehle ek baar chodna chahta tha. Usne meri panty neeche kari aur apna short aur underwear bhi neeche khiska diya.Mai aage ki taraf bend hui thi.Meri chuchiya hawa me latak rahi thi. Kasif ne apna lund meri choot me rakkha aur ek hi jhate me andar ghusa diya aur dhakke dene laga. Woh apna lund andar bahar kar raha tha. Bagalse kafi cars ne hume overtake kiya. Sab apni speed thodi der ke liye dheemi karte aur mujhe chudte hue dekhte.Udhar Rohan ek haath se car. Slowly. Water slid down her neck, hair, pooling in the crevices of her collarbones. She rinsed, slowly turning in the steam, warmth. Calm now, she thought back over the evening, letting the shower run as she thought back. Concentrating, trying to find the one detail, overlooked. The answer was there, if she could remember. Concentrate. Falling leaves in the crisp air, crunching underfoot on the concrete sidewalk. Joyce walked with purpose, confidence, shoulder-length brown hair stirring with.