Che anniversario glorioso, questo: un mese esatto dalla riapertura d'un blog naufragato. La rotta รจ stata ristabilita, joy to the heart is big, the more the hope of not betray you, to put here, for you, for me , what beats and echoes in my chest.
the squalor of the proposal "describe!" do not really know how to react. Describe. How to describe something that is not objective, something that does not even know what it is?
Like a crack in the wall dirty and poorly welded railings. Yet it is quell'inesattezza, I think, tasty. A crack almost irrelevant over time comforting. I am heartened to be a crack, I am comforted by the imperfection which is so bloody and warring, in contrast to the harmony professed by all. Maybe. 
Like a stack of books to read, incomplete constancy. A dirty palette of colors that do not even know how to use. An ugly picture, which seems nice, artistically irrelevant, a beautiful painting that seems bad, my eyes. Maybe. 
like a carpet of covers of books starring the scrumptious Investigator of the infallible, Judah dancer! My feet, deformed, attacked, embarrassing. My feet, that I like, I hate. My feet are gently pulled apart un'insulsa vanity. Then a shoe, the low-cut, one that bears the quotation from Emerson , engraved not be forgotten, wherever the road. Every wall is a door, the obstacle is no longer afraid. Maybe. 
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