An ode to nostalgia
More than two months that I left. More than two months that I live on English soil and more than two months that I do not write anything ... like a block from nostalgia. It is not easy to spike, but it's a heavy fog that fills me with so much heart to put it all under pressure and to leave no possibility of explosion, if not implosion ...
but this strong nostalgia that marks so many times I picture her face with tears teaches me the value of the house, the embrace of my parents so much that I overlooked in importance, the light in the eyes of my friends, people I love, their absence but I weigh that with the Lady nostalgia acquires the value of things rare and precious and reminds me of the details of my life with you over there ....
here are intertwined lives intertwine pain, death, lives that are about to end, marked by suffering and madness without end, and I intoxicate these myriad flavors, these colorful that at the end remind me of a picture, but fragmented that seems more complete than I have received so far from me ...
The crowds pelting rain on my limbs
soups nostalgia.
I championship fragments of sadness
because you can understand how the balance lies on the fulcrum of everything
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