This week we run the ritual postponed until now known only through movies and plays: separate, in the house that was common, which is everyone, but burning inanimate objects. A book of yours that I liked, my album that you gave me a painting that was both a chronology of dedications: you can keep whatever you want, if my life and yours mingled together so long ...
Friends, if I have felt saddened that I will mourn this whirlwind of images that can not be grasped, the epitome of a long-haul travel, with all its soft and beautiful days and nights ... when first-effervescent, fever, heat on mutual lap isolation from the world, the moment of accession earnest after the first anger, and the appeal of the return ... a vital project in full uniform, raincoat, burning, self-sufficient, with the parallel world of jokes and parodies created for myself, I always felt safe and loved, their care and my love huge, everything has returned, visiting In my memory ... sunset and the wreaths that are felt gradually, the certainty that is irreversible wear and impending failure ... it has not prevented you feel that everything has been worth to be lived and die by his side.
Does anyone know how to say goodbye?
Crazy He Calls Me / Billie Holiday
((The pictures are my soul and Lost illusion, the Mexican Löwenberg Monica.
utensils must my old house the day after traveling to the new, not yet occupied and excited conditioning process, while I corresponded with my new love in his place, I also feel me. Do not know where I live at the end, if perhaps will share the week between two homes, but we will do together, not separately)). Http://tiburonesenkorador.blogspot.com/atom.xml
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