The beginning
... And now back again.
From as now, from every single atom of my subject, how many words I have changed and how, surprisingly, small silences I have destroyed little by little. In silence, as the rock is carved by water and wound, so I have changed. Has been epochal change going to live alone in a big city, has been the feeling of "see me grow and achieve goals that would have never thought of being able to overcome ... Maybe he always had reason my father, the one thing most desires and plus the whole world to plot fartela not have. But the exact moment they stop your interest, here's one thing that appears. It seems to be thinking beautiful and want, while you past six shot by another party. Time passes and, if yesterday was all the time because then something happens, now no. The hourglass was turned. I write from the small apartment that we were assigned here in Chamonix. My cousin Lorenzo and his friend Pascal are sleeping bad and I doubt that you wake up very early. I am just out of the shower and, in the absence of my Mac, I write the blog on a very special book. A notebook that bought months ago to write my thoughts while I was away from Neli. If you're reading this post, this phrase of a poem by Neruda is for you:
"If gradually cease to love,
cease to love little by little.
If I suddenly forget,
not to try, that I will have you already forgotten. "
The air is cold up here, knows snow, like everything around here. The silence is immense at times, and fend air, while the sun's rays are centuplicati by white snow. I had a dream when I was a child. I still Ce. I hope to be able to do it Happen.
