<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rdf:RDF xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/" xmlns:rdf="http://www.w3.org/1999/02/22-rdf-syntax-ns#"><channel rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/BlogRss.aspx/michael_pilarte2"><title>CONFESSION - Blogit</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/michael_pilarte2/</link><description>A fiction, written in less than four minutes...  Is it any good???   You tell me.</description><sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod><sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency><sy:updateBase>2000-01-01T12:00+00:00</sy:updateBase><items><rdf:Seq><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/michael_pilarte2/247329" /></rdf:Seq></items></channel><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/michael_pilarte2/247329"><title /><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/michael_pilarte2/247329</link><description>It all started with a phone call I was home, bored alone and the invitation came off I left, to meet someone else not her. She was there, giving me a deep stare smiling as she crossed and uncrossed her thighs infront of me. I ignored her-- ofcourse yet she persisted asking to dance weak, I gave...</description></item></rdf:RDF>