am an insect origami.
[...]
I wander the world on tiptoe. Transparency as indomitable result to my excellent input. If you do not manage to overcome, change direction, I through your bodies like a ghost and pale.
The head is bowed. are "unconditional surrender". I hide in the silence of white walls, in your city. Smoking your cigarettes, your breathing air and work for you.
[...]
A resounding question fills my head and follows me to bed. Blow on my anxiety, I brushes her hair dagl'occhi. Remains and disappears. E 'affection unique to each of us. I do not have a clear answer: is always a goal ahead of the photo-finish after a shot at the start, with twenty-three years late.
[...]
And I'm in a hurry, one on the road that leads to being late. And I am delighted. Even if I struggle. The bell has already rung. Raffaella is already the letter "N": the first one of mine.
E 'color on a Tuesday fog in the town on the river bank. The road is named after some American president. I do not remember. I am not. I'm just late and I do not even realize. I have more fun watching the smoke from the mouth uscirmi. It's cold. Eyes down on the roadside. A paper flower with the dodged the door with my feet get too close to the edge. The blast of a lorry, I stumble back onto the dock and on a blade of grass. I am lost in thought. And I left my shoes at home.
these slippers are fine red wool, but are certainly not the "shoes" right. Yet even this I am because I'm running and I have no time to understand.
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