Sitting at the kitchen table, cup of coffee on the front surface of which was reflected in his sad eyes was concentrating on his thoughts.
spent two fingers under the nose with a gesture which Pindar crossed the line between the turarsi nose and dry.
Something died inside of him forever, something new is born, something changed, something was consolidated. And the vortex of feelings that this brought him to pierce the pit of my stomach.
He thought that people would say that you can not go back because the road is one way, he was wrong. There are always cross reimboccare to turn around and the street.
I also think that whoever says that you can go back, because it's like a disc you can play back, he was wrong even more: it is always the same songs heard again.
But when the disc does not play more, are minimized, when they do not idealize, even the parts ruined. And just listen to the beautiful notes you are ready to endure as a romantic belong to sweet rest.
decided that we are missing something. He deduced that the desire is always to what is far and just gazed in the shape of the defects of vision without praying.
But they do not belong to the first and certainly not after. The desire of the first hidden defects. The desire of the file after them. But far from enjoying
desires, when they appear without blemish makes no sense whatsoever.
makes no sense to give it up first. Nor did they regret it later.
