well and unfortunately share the same fate: no one knows where to put the ACCA.
the ACCA, we were told is not a letter, a bit 'like the white color is not as contains them all.
alas, have my elderly parents at home is not a life experience, but it is a test initiation.
dragged the steps, slow movements, the incipient deafness, the memory fades facts, events, emotions. illness, disease, pills, frugal meals, the idiosyncrasies, the existential posture incorrect, the correct ones. flows emotional color, the fullness of being, the soul that overflows memories.
the starry sky of youth, the misty sky of old age. hear sneezing, coughing because of the jump, urine, feces, diapers, diapers, snacks, high cholesterol, the mitral valve, the defibrillator, ham and mozzarella.
short, old age, death of the hall, waiting room crowded with memories of recent games room.
the world of children and the old join hands, in both cases looking for something. The first look for something that does not yet have a name, the latter something which no longer recall the name.
in half there is life, and all open bets, primarily those on ourselves.
you can get away from everything: from a love gone by sailors have one, from a deal wrong, from a friendship misplaced, stolen from a home-made from a robbery in a house.
you can also choose not to be happy, or they no longer want to work hard to be. may be inauthentic and / or earn our trembling palm after palm authenticity.
can even reach the consciousness trying not to resolve the contradictions more, but fuck them one by one, without exception.
as usual, was right in Woody Allen's Deconstructing Harry when he put into the mouth of a dead man restored to life than being alive is to be happy.
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