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As long as I feel alive ... It is perhaps a

My feelings, my thoughts, my desire to feel alive. More written words that said, more thoughts gestures. This is me? O fleeting shadow passing in front of the mirror and do not have the courage to stop and look. I wonder, if our memories will disappear as fast as a volatile memory of a computer, we might be happier? No! is not the right way, we would nn awareness of being, would remain only a blank image as an avatar cold and soulless. The words that I have written that said, are the most significant traces of my emotions and I will continue to do so until I feel alive ...

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miles truly separate us from friends?

may come from a distant future forgotten, or perhaps from the past where everything reminds me inexorably. Yet, my thoughts and my memories are not to be influenced by time passing. If I close my eyes and try to follow the line of thought I can go anywhere in the selected period. (It is perhaps a distance truly separate us from friends? If you wish to be next to someone you love, do not you already there? (No place is far from R. Bach)

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An old house in 1901 .....

a child watching intrigued by a small window in the construction of new urban areas of the 70. I lived in an old house built in 1901 near the central area of \u200b\u200bTurin. It was cold in the winter, the bathroom was out on the balcony and even then I spent hours reading any book or cartoon that I came to hand, sitting on the toilet, cold as an iceberg. The residential buildings while continuing to grow day by day right there where a few months before there was our football field. Even now I look around for brief moments through the eyes of that child and no longer understand where they are. Maybe we were so taken by the construction of urban anthill, by forgetting to put in the concrete tower blocks of a bit of respect, love, tolerance. Respect strengthens the pillars, love makes the home harmonious and tolerance ventilate the home, giving always different sounds and colors ..

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rains, the city seems a mirror .....

rains, the city looks like a mirror which reflects all the neon lights of the shops. Passers-by peer in the windows of the few busy shops that have remained open late. Maybe buying that last night represents the time that they waited all day or maybe try the last moment thinking only of themselves. It's raining, the city seems a mirror knows if he can reflect our day to day problems, maybe smaller and giving him again the right size.