You know, like when you write, but you feel like a squeezed orange just scontratosi with a juicer. Here is what is the time to post.
was a beautiful piece that I wanted to post and several things I babble quibble, but I feel weak, no worse off, worse, exhausted, drained worse .... Street Mission came only in English, because in Italian literally would be "drained" (Yuck, and I know 'n'oliva?), But the concept of orange I'd say that says it all.
Not to mention, then I sleep. But a sleep from chronic narcoleptic, which prevents me from developing any interesting idea. * Suppresses yawn *
So, get ready, because soon you will have a post high philosophical (but not ), a post-high weather (now that so much is obvious, self-evident, that any weather is a source of supreme inspiration to me!) and a post to highly critical of the reality (read GF 10).
What I will speak tonight? Of crap. But just about anything!
In fact, here: I will speak of deja vu!
Today is a day with a high content was deja vu: I've had something like three this afternoon. Stressful and humiliating, I would say, especially because I hate not remember when I "collected" the moments that I recall.
Oh Mother, I've already finished! Maybe 'I'm post has no reason to exist, or perhaps because they are graphic and obsessive-compulsive disorder will post anyway, because whatever goes on my blog is not nobody, but nobody! Possible lack of a trying travel in Gaelic (a language known to be spread all over the world!) Happen by mistake on this journal? Yet the words in Gaelic, there are several: Caird, for example, which means friends. By the way: I do not think even having said that I really like this word Gaelic. Ah, it's all learned a gem that will leave you breathless know. * The players are arranged on the chair waiting for the lesson *
You should know that this word is pronounced as you read. Unfortunately, myself, not an expert on Gaelic pronunciation (for me it would take years to become familiar) initially pronounced as rope (ò not quite open, even a half-a). R naturally pronounce style Inglese and d, type d in the "mother" told by a Sicilian. Here, the word pointed to the undersigned, by assonance, the Latin string, which is the heart. Hence the wonder, say friends, for me to say Oh my heart!, And in the end perhaps no one piece of our hearts?
Here considerations aside pessimistic, perhaps friends, in fact, we just steal a piece of our heart. Just today, I reflected once again to reflect real existence of friendship, and I assure you that the question haunts me because those existential classic (see: Existence / nonexistence of God throughout the history of philosophy, sex Angels, etc.). Friendship exists or not. The point is still there, you have to understand what is meant by friendship. Maybe even I do not know, maybe it's the passion of twenty years is falling and I hit with a brutal reality and disillusionment in its cruelty. Forse sono solo io a essere Romantico, e gli altri non si pongono le mie questiones , ma io soffro, e questo è un sentimento reale, concreto, brutale e disilluso, e non v’è speranza a mitigarlo, solo delusioni ad alimentarlo. Lo so, sto scadendo nel becero, vi sto trascinando nella mia personale spirale di depressione, ma vi assicuro: non è che un attimo, qualche sospiro non represso nei momenti di solitudine, quando si riaffacciano alla mente i ricordi degli anni passati. Non sono depresso e tutto sommato, via: posso dirmi felice, felice grazie a coloro che mi circondano, che non ho ragione per non chiamare amici. Eppure… eppure la sensazione di manchevolezza, vacuum remains. I hope it is only due to growth, a side effect of disillusionment that characterizes the transition from one worldview to a childish adult vision. One day, probably will not even notice. But until then, I can not stop the passion, flame lonely now run out of oxygen reminds me that life should be lived, researched reports, that the Amcizia (with A) still exists, just that of twenty years, Just what I begin to refute its existence. I just hope, patient, waiting for me somewhere, or it will be too late.
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