Gent.mo Mr. Scrinzerfuler,
thank you for the respect that is showing me posting on my little blog. she asks me and presses with its "Tell me, tell me," between the final and the ironic.
what can I say!
little thing, I do not have much to say: they are superficial, yes.
I like what is reflected on the surface. For example, today I went to take my parents to the sea and 550 km-made machine that is holding back the glare of the sun on the water at the end of the tunnel, the sky more clear, a kiss of alassio eaten in one bite and a coffee thick.
as you can see is just the surface. do not care to look me in my neighborhood or depths or crevasses: I do not.
I do not even have a story to tell, because the story now for me is all these small keys I'm pressing. understand me?
there is a before, let alone after, there is here and now, here and now. This is the area, wants nothing more, does not aspire to more.
know for me what is happiness? not wanting to be elsewhere.
I also want to be anything but me impose not want to be elsewhere.
in my (humble) opinion, his life is much tastier than mine.
you, Scrinzerfuler, it gives me the idea of \u200b\u200bbeing a bay that is home to rugged handles that you turn into stories. Please
the discovery to continue. not be ashamed to be a scrinzerfuler in a world of Mr. Red. goes without saying that I do root for her, though still not allowed me to focus on his vision of the world.
scrinzerfuler perhaps because a vision has not. has many world views, one inside the other, like so many colorful matryoshkas, like so many rainbows that go hand in hand, as in the dance world of Matisse.
enough, I'll stop here. rather she I tell her "now" a significant moment, a fragment of life that allows me to think about before falling asleep.
we love only the things and people to whom we think before I sleep, the rest ends up in humid or plastics.
smile at her. His
Doshu
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