The air around here is getting dark and heavy, it is like that of 11 June was so far from not find the strength to live sti months to open a book and study, study really.
It is as if waiting for the end of the school, or at least the trip to Paris, unwilling to return, to start another semester, the usual tasks and the usual black and white pages.
A pentamestre, five months and I expect their length looks really amazing, not going to come to a stop.
And the next is already last summer, the last before a summer holiday world so big that you can not see its boundaries.
raining outside, fine view, looking at those drops seem even better mixed with soft flakes of snow, but more snow is not perhaps what we need, any meter is still out there.
I say any more.
You who are close and distant at the same time that you arrive with your own words and with a good night every night I stole a smile. Where you gonna go? Into oblivion in no time at all, or what is your destiny?
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