Sera alone, waiting for my sickly from the weekend ... ... ... post-film combination of elements that makes one think of writing. Music. And too many thoughts running. In a short hair cut. When a woman cuts her hair is always a reason, they say. What a stupid thought. But it is the last time, this is a reason for change is there. For good or evil. I wonder if I do well to hope so. It could be a huge mistake, or a choice of life. Leaving, stay away, be swallowed up by work or now or never. We'll see how things develop. Choices. Period of the best I would say, why not settle? Eventually it will. Meanwhile, I dream of the garden, and a tavern, you want a fireplace? Dreams! Sacrifices, many, always: now we are accustomed. Boxes, newspaper: everything goes in his hands and ends up inside. Everything is empty, sealed. From the glass of the kitchen to my books. Epic. Yet it is not the first nor the last. Some things I'm thinking not to unpack and then: I avoid it the next effort. I travel, dreams and plans. Discussions and chat, from "great". Who would have thought, her heart in her throat. And I displace them with a simplicity and convenience that you expect, but I will Cause I've learned from you? Or maybe it's because our relationship is not always a such, but facts. Tears. A lot. Words doorway: that evening! The second after the speech, "now that you're getting big" film. Or from reality. Distant friends. People far away, always. And there you thought when you get older? The doubt in her eyes, I was wrong yet again. No errors. Only choices and took responsibility. Although I do not understand. Inconsistencies. And who knows where you'll be a few years. Fate seems to trace a path, the most unusual. As always. The change as a challenge. I learned something. I'm ready again. And then again.
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