We are the result of our choices. Including our mistakes. Above all our mistakes. And also not chosen, the moments still left them in midair, a lost look nell'azzuro, a sentence that does not. The advice of those who can not make haste to say. The sentences made, phone calls broken. The neighbors feel that way, being so far away. Elective Affinities, the name of the rose, the little prince. Who, after reaching a certain age, wants to realize hopes and dreams of youth are always deceiving. Everything is waivable. And it is useless effort of wanting to investigate. The only truth is learning to free ourselves from insane passion for truth. But that's not how you live. So at most you survive. It 's why I still feel an insane pleasure in smile and know you are happy. Know you well. It makes me feel good. Even if we were (like us) in two different hemispheres, poles apart. Such is life. So are our lives. Like a slow, long, French film full of feelings. Many feelings. Different feelings. Entangled in a web of expectations of future possible and not feasible. Feeling defeated in the clash between dreams and needs.
crap I say again, and I write more ...
