memory could wash with bleach ... Today heat hit really hard. He recalled that inspiring summer full of music. But the dry heat of the ideas went dry. Very nostalgic today. That nostalgia cloudy day. He said to himself: "It is December," "In December this shit is over." But arrive late December. Today it was agreed that hate with a grudge was sick. I hated to continue its essence "on it. But it was lost. Those memories will not go away ever. You may remain stored in the attic of memory and capping with new experiences. But always there at your fingertips.
What to do with this? How to live with the idiot with the same joy that he used to be happy?
Apparently it was time to be more honest, stand up to this new being and say a shy, but surely: "I like you" ...
curse of the High Sky ... The universe, as in cahoots with this guy. All micro-old agreed to ask the seat. All dogs were organized to cagarle the road every 5 meters. All traffic lights were synchronized to change to red when he arrived. The 1 st guitar string just decided to cut when he played this tune is so fond. The neighbor flaite just chose this day to shoot the power lines and just cut the light in your home (the only house without light).
already decided to die, Funa rotten with the universe, known the warning beep. A message on the mobile. A message from her. A sketch smile on it. Just coincided when the sun rose in Santiago.
Dreams! Music Boy: Mom, I have a dream.
Mother: And what is that dream?
Boy: I want to create a rock opera. I want to be the protagonist. Wearing bizarre, have dancers, singers, jugglers, all!
Mother: But do it!
Boy: Is that just requires a lot of money, advertising and so on. Now I'm a poor devil more.
Mother: If this idea in your head gesture is because it already exists. Maybe. You have the talent. Silver matters. The most difficult thing and get over it.
Boy: And what's so difficult that it exceeded?
Mother: stand in front of me and say "I want to do it."
