Enter room after a long but relaxing evening, one of those nights where nothing seems to go wrong (Mother of the massage, the salad with the vinaigrette, the scented tea and a good movie on TV, and then a hot shower, pajamas, Latvian) by the crack of the window and see the familiar muffled light of the streetlamps, a bit 'yellow, which is reflected in the falling snow white and flaky without stop.
Smiling for the little unexpected joy, soon stifled by concerns about the journey of Paul today (to the center of the region by car).
But enjoy it, the tiny joy, and try to tell it, though not well, though at the wrong time.
dawn to discover that the seeds of hyacinths and tulips that had just peeped out from the earth moist and rich, are again hidden by a thick white blanket, at least 40 cm high.
survive, even hidden? O bowed his head, waiting times and better people than me? Half-Cross
Italy, north, leaves me perplexed and bewildered. The snow is just around the house, within a radius of 30/40 km there is almost no more. Already on the outskirts of Bologna is not snow, but a white spray that can not wait to turn into a gray morass ...
On the train there are blonde. The young blonde, who suddenly realized-totally-lacking in the place where I live. Or rather, there are also the parts of my house for adoption (no affiliation), but the Germans Paciosi of Bavaria, a little 'round and a bit' naive, which seem always ready to eat and drink. Good-natured faces, slightly angry, as children of those who choose tattoos ancient mariners. These are not. These are the blond Nordic alter the nobility, thin, fine-looking, her hair smooth and soft. Or curly and a bit 'ruffled. However, in their elegant sweater of another era, from bohemian cleaned. Dark jacket, strictly velvet, soft and pure wool scarf, to enhance complexion: This blonde definitely knows how to dress and how to show (and I'm becoming a pain in the ass very careful and meticulous, the aesthetics of others).
ladies traveling on the train today from the look sharp and deep, dreamy and distracted people, immersed in the sports daily, students and people involved employees from the latest discoveries in technology, which does not leave for even a second of their gems from the connection eternal and omnipresent. The colorful little humanity is unexpectedly colorful and very serious, restrained and discreet. Greys, blacks, browns and greens, beige and a shot of orange light that comes from a folder of canvas. I alone, with the purple shirt, caught by the definition, I. As always, never place - never complete - never perfect. This time is the "above" that Stone: beige cape with scarf coordinated and reddish skin folder. I was supposed to be beige and blue, for example. A blue powder that gives me and lights me up with a light touch, so to speak. But no: I am not able to dress in full by respectable lady, and below are black and purple. Scoordnata. Messed up.
As a woman who does not want to become a woman, a girl who accepts her role, a person who does everything to underestimate, not to pigeonhole without being able to become truly original. I
. Often inadequate. Slightly out of focus. Not quite right, not quite in order, not entirely suitable. Almost. But no.
I miss snow shoes, and jeans: the things I love living with me until they run out of exhaustion and consumption. So the shoes, routes, and jeans, torn. And the pants I'm wearing today: with pockets no longer exist, but cut so perfect that I could not tear myself away from them as a novel security blanket. Do not know the end, the stories, the stories, the pages. As I can not close the situation, as I fear to accomplish what we start. And this is-almost - a tale
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