Daughters Happy 3rd Birthday

I do not like the departures. No, I really do not like. In most cases, at least. I often find myself at home, especially on Saturday, waiting impatiently for the arrival of the evening. The opposite happens to me from other foreign parties, I have anxiety and I would not even there that night and the sun light up my room forever. It is now arrivat al'estate, and this is a phrase that I hate. One of those axioms that fill the mouth of each average idiot. We are in late July, about half, this is the period in which we live. Returning home from a short walk I am surprised to hear the cicadas. Take possession of new Cities in July. I saw him, and it has changed. At least a bit '. It seemed to me not to try anything, in July. I just felt a bit 'too full of himself. Perhaps the cicadas have invaded him - is July. I want to arrive in the evening in the city, and sleep as little as possible. I prefer the weak morning sun, I quiets the mind and fears of the mind can not be controlled from outside. In any case, the total state of quiescence is not for me. I want someone to tell my story. But just returned allotment. And I'm afraid not to return. Stupid fear. And if he were? But it's July and I must go. I think somewhere else in the world is already the next day, and it remains in my list unoalla countdown for the return. And I'm reminded of the cicadas, in a landscape of their legitimate property, usurpatogli. So it makes no sense fretting, I can abide by them. I hate starts, but I love the world. All feel exactly the opposite of me. I do not know who is right. Yet I love the world, although sometimes it scares me. Irrationality, they say. A dear friend gave me company, a few days ago. She loves to travel. And I love it too. We will go to sea with the other, never, I think, so I'll be fine. Travel. (Maybe) just become estranged from the mass exodus of citizens in a hurry. Out of their homes, fleeing from themselves on charter flights or queued up quakche highway where the asphalt is sunburned. Meanwhile my town smiles at me. Perhaps I too am a cicada.

Marta Shaa