The year that ends should be the year ' out of many things. Instead, it was not so, not out of just such a beautiful thing. On leaving I would give some weight by the door, and lighter than I tried to wander exploring, trying new things. I did a quick lap and then I started again, one by one, my weights. Some renovated, some sweetened, but getting them. In my wanderings I met new things and I have gathered, there are many beautiful things, but time and attention. I should focus on one thing, but I can not, like I have an insatiable hunger that "takes all, even the coffee." Guess I'll have to redo everything from scratch. Basically what I tried to get was to develop the farthest point of my character: serenity, but I did not succeed. I wanted to be a peaceful mountain lake, but I'm a puddle boost traffic. But in the end it is not true, the truth is I want the energy to do everything they can stick their nose into every nook and corner of every pull something yet to be explored. But my energy is too little for giving me time to unwind dreams on paper. Port in the new year of the new joys and new sorrows, and port receipts precarious footholds. For my will, or destiny, next year will be a watershed year, one year to the next step will be very different from those experienced to date. Will I remember going to re-elect these words, if only to laugh at me, at least to count the turns in this circular motion. Let's wishes.
picture: out of here, Milan December 28, 2010
picture: out of here, Milan December 28, 2010
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