I was writing phrases important to remember and one day be able to say when that song was made way back in my head. I feel in different ways the sound of that voice, strings and drums in a crescendo of emotions that make me just cry.
tired, basically. They are under pressure and I do not have the strength to turn a blind eye.
squirm every phone ring, I answer so lazy and rude to those in front of me smiling, they are impatient with the beauty and sound of my heart.
I think this will end suddenly hot, in two and a half hours flight away from me all I know. And maybe what they are, if it is true that everything is also defined by its context.
something I'll be out of context. And I start to worry, not to be able to make that case.
afraid to go and afraid to stay.
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