I listen to Italian singer of the last century. Poetry. Tomorrow back to the winter, or at least in the minds of Most of the people. And there is no better way to get it, do not listen to these melancholy melodies. Colossal mistake. Sale undeciphered a melancholy to me, everything for a moment. I can hardly hold back tears. Why? I think I can also control certain feelings, certain emotions. But apparently not. I lay long in bed, the body expands. And in a lightning are shot out of the house. I do not even have time to notice. Ipod, legs, and maybe some cigarettes hidden in the bottom of a pocket. In the deserted streets near my house I make an appointment. It 'Sunday, late afternoon. A complete family returns home after a dinner at the home of grandparents, or uncles. Who knows. It makes me feel home, but at the same time out of place. It takes me just to meet the world today seems to move. Precisely in the opposite direction to mine. Who did the calculations wrong? Those who leave and those who return, between the two parties? I am the only one, apparently, that opposes this current. They come to be so many that I can not even discern all their faces. Burn my eyes, maybe this, maybe not. Anyway, after walking. I have to let me go where I lead the legs. That does not stop. But in the end I know the way I'm going. Even if it seems random. The more I get closer to the center to meet more people. I try always to break away from the block which are all those people together, even if in my journey I run into a disproportionate amount of them anyway. Some stare at me until it overwhelms them. Others do not move to let me pass. The two things I normally would on your nerves, now I care very little. I am unable to stop the legs, I swear. I pass a house that reminds me of a past love. 'S great, and dreamed of going to live in two. I stop for just a second. To print the form in memory and return a few years ago. But there is no time, I have to keep walking. There is no reason why I should stop the perpetual motion that seem to have geared my legs. Like, it makes me feel better. The melancholy runs off with the sky, my head and that house. Leave space in my eyes, you look around in the streets, dragging their pediments of neoclassical buildings, the facades of Gothic churches, inns and restaurants remain closed. Porphyry seems to dissolve under my feet and I happen to find myself jumping up to shoot in the streets of my small town. The soil can move fast, but I tied my boots to a broken mast. And so maybe I decide to go home with a sun of the seven in the evening which is just before sunset. I've always said is the worst, what kills more, though it seems. It starts to hurt the hip but it's the last thing I could think of. I continue to move forward, and although I do not understand now, searching. dissolve if you'd ignore me. But what is really happening? I recover, but I continue to seek his face for all roads that pass. A sign, a color, music. I have the feeling that he is doing the same thing. I'll keep your dreams, and you take me into consideration, although it seems strange. I could not feel better. Really? Really. I'm almost home and the streets were deserted redone. But it is as if he were here. I just need to know that I am the guardian of her dreams. I will lay on a blanket in the grass, will extend his arms and say congratulations.
I listen to Italian singer of the last century. Poetry. Tomorrow back to the winter, or at least in the minds of Most of the people. And there is no better way to get it, do not listen to these melancholy melodies. Colossal mistake. Sale undeciphered a melancholy to me, everything for a moment. I can hardly hold back tears. Why? I think I can also control certain feelings, certain emotions. But apparently not. I lay long in bed, the body expands. And in a lightning are shot out of the house. I do not even have time to notice. Ipod, legs, and maybe some cigarettes hidden in the bottom of a pocket. In the deserted streets near my house I make an appointment. It 'Sunday, late afternoon. A complete family returns home after a dinner at the home of grandparents, or uncles. Who knows. It makes me feel home, but at the same time out of place. It takes me just to meet the world today seems to move. Precisely in the opposite direction to mine. Who did the calculations wrong? Those who leave and those who return, between the two parties? I am the only one, apparently, that opposes this current. They come to be so many that I can not even discern all their faces. Burn my eyes, maybe this, maybe not. Anyway, after walking. I have to let me go where I lead the legs. That does not stop. But in the end I know the way I'm going. Even if it seems random. The more I get closer to the center to meet more people. I try always to break away from the block which are all those people together, even if in my journey I run into a disproportionate amount of them anyway. Some stare at me until it overwhelms them. Others do not move to let me pass. The two things I normally would on your nerves, now I care very little. I am unable to stop the legs, I swear. I pass a house that reminds me of a past love. 'S great, and dreamed of going to live in two. I stop for just a second. To print the form in memory and return a few years ago. But there is no time, I have to keep walking. There is no reason why I should stop the perpetual motion that seem to have geared my legs. Like, it makes me feel better. The melancholy runs off with the sky, my head and that house. Leave space in my eyes, you look around in the streets, dragging their pediments of neoclassical buildings, the facades of Gothic churches, inns and restaurants remain closed. Porphyry seems to dissolve under my feet and I happen to find myself jumping up to shoot in the streets of my small town. The soil can move fast, but I tied my boots to a broken mast. And so maybe I decide to go home with a sun of the seven in the evening which is just before sunset. I've always said is the worst, what kills more, though it seems. It starts to hurt the hip but it's the last thing I could think of. I continue to move forward, and although I do not understand now, searching. dissolve if you'd ignore me. But what is really happening? I recover, but I continue to seek his face for all roads that pass. A sign, a color, music. I have the feeling that he is doing the same thing. I'll keep your dreams, and you take me into consideration, although it seems strange. I could not feel better. Really? Really. I'm almost home and the streets were deserted redone. But it is as if he were here. I just need to know that I am the guardian of her dreams. I will lay on a blanket in the grass, will extend his arms and say congratulations. 
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