are not too bad, small as they are. Maybe not enough to make you lose ... 
There are nights that I would change anything in the world ...
Nights steeped in perfumes, breaths and movements that I can still hear live on my skin, painless and permanent as a tattoo.
Joy and fear are already elbowing to take precedence in my heart and in my brain. So neither of us will never prevail over the other.
I look at the trajectory that a bright summer sky unusually gentle style, I think about who designed and I know this from someone higher up is reading all that clearly I have inside of me. I do not know if it will be pleased with me, but I want to thank you anyway. These trajectories
dots joined by stars seem to be connected, apparently arranged at random. None of them knows that he is forming a pattern, yet each of them a member.
Maybe life is all here, leave, pluck and pick up signs. Only at the end will be very clear in the mysterious plan fulfillment.
Tomorrow someone will notice these marks on me, and maybe I will notice them I looked in the mirror. But no one will know which behind the ban and what secret behind you leave a night like this ...
letter love is a kiss given to nostalgia. Two words terrible and wonderful, full of joy and fear, I'm a shy smile that lights up my skin a little 'less innocent.
This vortex must be the price you pay to not feel alone. And for how long, then?
No, this time we do not want to think. This time I do not care and I pay gladly.
I want to live this moment. Divide
with you.
And I wish that this night had never ended ...
Sure it's been a while since my last post ... I could begin to tell something that has happened throughout this period.
(Picture taken from www.megamodo.com / category / candy /)
To get to work and take my nice code and 40km of roads "alternative" that separate me from my beloved office, I use a modern Fiat Punto 60S, said that it is also very cool, but in reality it is a car registered in 1996, when dad decided Jubilee of the old Fiat 131 bought 15 years earlier and called "kangaroo" because of a congenital defect of carburization that the cold was going to tear.
As it was the car of my father, I have always used little, preferring the less technical but more reliable Fiat Uno 45, the color indefinite and discussed with various friends and acquaintances, who in turn have received the color of the body as "lime green", "Bianchini", "sb *** a horse" or "yellow Pea "(I've never understood this).
In short, a few months ago, in a rainy day, the needle point of the fuel is really the limit, but thanks to abundant mm full scale that separates it from the account to be able to get to my favorite gas station, a murdered man in his fifties who wears gunboat in winter too, so it is nicknamed "dr. Gibaud. The price of gasoline is among the lowest in the area, although no stamps, possibly only a few points in the lead kids to make compliments to his daughter.
must have a very pretty daughter. But I never had the courage to ask.
In short, in the middle of a traffic light queue, my prediction turns out to be wrong on residual fuel. The point coughing for a few yards and then crashes thirsty.
In the middle of traffic.
Just next to the camera and photographer who spends a red light or goes too fast. At least at this juncture I'm not afraid, although I fear that photographs of the crime of "road space".
In an instant the queue becomes a nice orchestra of horns and psychedelic lights to high beam, with vocal improvisations that do not quite understand where they came from but I guess exactly where I want to send.
I put the 4 arrows, waving his arms as the Formula One drivers in need of repair at the time of departure and I become safety man, wearing a lemon yellow high visibility jacket and carrying a red triangle warning. I move the car to the side of the road and a man much doting on me says:
"Look what you can not park here. If you are not able to go by car you can also stay at home '
"If you are not able to make you can also go to your caxxi Affan ... "is my elegant answer. I did not want to sound too rude. After all of you gave me.
Fortunately, there is a dealer nearby (300 m), to walk with umbrella of emergency (which God sends rain) store-bought.
Since, even on foot, I want to avoid travel in the wrong (indeed break) the state, I decide to go to the fields, muddy and now reduced to rot because of heavy rains in recent days. To complicate matters further, it also puts the sole of a shoe, which in contact with all this moisture as you open your mouth of a crocodile, which gave me the pleasant feeling of walking on water.
finally reaches the distributor and buy € 10 of petrol, as well as a container for transportation. Back on my feet, I keep an umbrella in one hand now deformed from heavy rain gutter to the tank and in the plastic that weighs and makes me take the typical posture of one who is walking on the walls of a mountain, being able to move Romania also sorry for the guy who is the distributor.
back to the car and the operation of filling the tank is more complicated than expected, because it must be done with two hands and rather slowly, otherwise the liquid flows back out.
In this way I can take all the rain coming down and fragrant hands of saturated hydrocarbons. In practice, I became a man € 4.
At the end I still can leave and return home with my corollary of liquids and assorted scents.
Moral of the story:
