here is that when you leave, then, from all returns to be godfather to yourself. and think back, with a gentle melancholy. the stories follow one another, one above the other, piled in the basement as your primary notebook, where you take the votes beautiful. were very good also, at times.
but the memories are back there, you know, after all, no need to go a long way, and then they'll expect you'll see.
twenty years but I am? I do not know where to look.
that cold! will also be home, but it is a frost ...
have this shabby when you sling your bike in a fast descent of the soul, and you feel so alive when you frizzica the wind in your ears? but where you are going, really?
legs did not struggle, I assure you.
that air and then cry. bloody nose in the winter always wants to make the main character ...
Oh well, including a po'sarà the new year. good year for the crabs, they say.
