tompea @ 2006-04-16T22: 20:00
That's it for hours after an evening spent drinking shot-to-shot (10!), I return home. It was 4 o'clock in the morning.
Monte Cervialto was silent, the lights flash alternately to each other.
orange ball that marked the way for any passer-by to me that I was there.
within the rich caravan of life is possible, of all the clubs in Rome, attended by entering the same helium & Sara (h) mona? yes, there definitely.
I was with my classmate. We spent the evening at the bar of this restaurant San Lorenzo where the shot cost 1 €.
we talked about us, the changes are essential, irrevocable, and postponed. smile-I know there will be future-that will be slightly muted by a layer of bitterness. for a while, anyway.
no longer even want to back the person you want. it is to fill a void that leaves you, at times, evenings like this, confused.
like a child left alone in a crowd fleeing from a fire.
le cose vanno affrontate partendo da se stessi. as you can feel good about other people-I, shit, I'm fine with you! - is never enough. it is not in the terms you need to dream, to touch her cheek and whispered "would you like a romantic dinner tonight ...".
sharing is extraordinary. share the same bed for nights. approach the door of his house to let a bunch of flowers or cones and distinctly hear the door frames of its intrinsic flavor.
sharing is extraordinary, I said.
remember when I first read "The Pleasure of D'Annunzio. I was at home to Lille in Tallinn, Estonia.
was the summer of 2000. for the first time in my life-I can still feel so strong that feeling of disbelief, of anxiety, surprise, relief-I read words that seemed directed at me. words were the same as the guide to living in the moment My reading of the same. I went on more than recognize that the personal aspects of cerda ... I did not even know what to believe. I felt stupid and amazed. I stopped reading several times to take a walk along the streets of Toompea summer. all interruptions. as opening a door when you know you will be in front of destiny.
sharing links you to places, people. all the more vivid the memory is much more difficult it is to bear the distance, which is temporal or geographical.
then we are all here, I guess, once a once another, listening to a song that seems to be made to make you cry. here to write about memories, memory-that I've always had a very bad memory that are destined to remember ... fate has always had a great sense of humor-of sensations to which one clings. yet it seems to go too badly. if I think about my future I see so many things to do but I can not keep them below. yet they all seem far away. far from being reached.
goodbye my love, goodbye my friend
,
you were the one for me
also in the wrong, we did not understand what
one day will seem so obvious,
suddenly
that laugh of taste,
We say:
"it was worth it"
it would be worth-worth, in fact, however, no matter what.
because it is my deep sense of need to know, kisses, caresses, looks, attention and love that makes me human, alive and conscious of the enormous gift that life gave me.
have known love, having met him, kissed, caressed, observed carefully and you've had it, over-all-things, loved.
I almost feel like saying I do not care to know you are with someone else. in a room to offer you something to drink from an interesting person. does not matter. I know I make mistakes with you. just like I did. will never be able to admit his faults, his errors of superficiality, with the frankness that I had with you. as if to say that anyone who steps to our door, is made curious by the lights inside, knock and ask "Hello?" any of them, will never be equal.
is a sad fact that I carry between the covers tonight.
last night where I really want to make love to you.
just as I remember.
night
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