It's cold and raining, as I look and do not kiss me.
He rolls his eyes as I remembered to do, it seems that things have not changed much from those early years, the Piazza Vetra, the passer, cadorna and letters.
The first page of the new container of bees or wasps, it's a Moleskine and a Muji. It 's a gift, welcome, and that's what counts. Less nice is that this first page is spelled wrong, wrong, red.
Making a drink on an empty stomach is unhealthy because it takes to do what I want, like mess.
raining for weeks, I have reached a state of intolerance toward the romantic thing is the water that falls from the sky.
The cuffs of your shirt were in constant collision with my wrists, for the most part, as always, naked. Un'imbarazzata there is usually a safe distance when people walk on the side. What I liked tonight was that you do not respect it ... but precisely because it was sincere part of you, not for strategic goals of conquest.
pouring rain, it froze but wanted to stay out. I was shaking, but for real. I ferivo solitary infiltrated with harmless bullets fell from roof and evading all the rest.
I have spoken of the certainty that I try and I did not understand your reaction, your non-reaction.
I just wanted to know what is normal.
you think is wrong and cowardly to want
modest and slow
between bed and routine?
Tsk. Citations.
(section written by the skin of a black Moleskine, a new traveling companion)
