So Luisa plunged in the meditation of Dreams. Dreams, that wispy mist with the intoxicating smell which exists before all beds. The mischievous thing which curses the senses like a sickness without relief, and without a cure. Why do Dreams unhinge, and who can hide from her? She lays on top of the stars masking all light. Laying mindful and calmly for all time with her arrows held down, watching the hopes come forth. Been laying yonder preceding the past, present and future. She was prone to discover a scent from her skin on her pillow any moment. She was worried and anxious also. Pitiful Guido! 'e should not need to avairt into loneliness. She issued the director to comfort yet Guido replied No. Zese collegues wair copacetic with ze genius, but zey lack ze abellity to cair fair 'is problems. He would be fine when the Vatican learned her place. He wasn't leading to failure after all. That was what he concluded. Yet the director said another story, so she grasped. Later still he hadn't, the new day she was compelled to see, since converging would occur in the studio among the press and the cameras. Those who were restricted in the past entered. Remaining behind cameras and watched. Curiosity, the poisoned water, had whispered in the news.
Note: Ambiguous pronouns might make my paragraph confusing. Should I color code it for a better understanding?
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