I feel like a hedgehog, sorry ... I'm trying to start again, reformatting in a way, with poor results for the time being.
Leaving Rome by a month or so I have yet to make it back. And the people and things start to miss it seriously.
I react in a childish way, which in some ways reminds me of the crisis of the protagonist of Reality Bites, only that I did not Ethan Hawke and Ben Stiller who compete for my love;)
Maybe 'to stop the spectrum, the I feel that weight of expectation on me, the desire that a part of me has to settle and achieve common objectives and reassuring. A stable job, a home. And the fact that for the moment I seem to have achieved a lot.
I arrived at the point of origin, inevitably, and I feel that everything is tight, that everything does not come back. And really do not know where to start.
Or better know what to start but apparently attempts that do not are paying ...
I want to endless horizons, days dozing on the beach, laughter and hugs, ideas, guitars, foam and anything else you can identify with the idea of \u200b\u200bbeautiful and cuddly.
Yes, maybe I just need to cuddle.
Pero 'I began to take pictures, read and take notes.
Yesterday was the Feast of the must, in one of the islands near Venice. It 's a country fair, which celebrates the beginning of the harvest with a party and a regatta of Venetian rowing (I put some pictures in my new flickr page http://www.flickr.com/photos/43288249 @ almaycuerpo N06/show / ). The lagoon and its odors are always a great source of inspiration for colors, memories of my childhood. I met again an old farmer friend of my sister, who sold his vegetables. It was an interesting face, marked by life, I am sorry for him not take photos. But perhaps it would be too intrusive.
I'm reading a lot. I'm making out a little at a time all the books back, my parents, my brother and my father. I finally finished
The Songlines by Bruce Chatwin and Luis Sepulveda's Patagonia Express . I was flooded with rivers of emotions, memories and ideas. The second book starts with a meeting between Chatwin and Sepulveda thing I did not suspect and which has created an unexpected theme.
My imagination for a moment and 'lost in Australian deserts, glaciers and volcanoes, Chilean, in conversations with Aboriginal and indigenous people. In stories that coincide with my experiences in the world at the end of the world.
And I would go back for a moment, breathing that air charge of a living history and experience ... those awful thick, almost sticky in their consistency.
Here, I want real things, emotions, interests and wriggling on days which are carrying equal and a bit 'empty. Am I missing emotional into the equivalent of a glass of water, but I assure you that sometimes it 'hard to realize their ...
Leaving Rome by a month or so I have yet to make it back. And the people and things start to miss it seriously.
I react in a childish way, which in some ways reminds me of the crisis of the protagonist of Reality Bites, only that I did not Ethan Hawke and Ben Stiller who compete for my love;)
Maybe 'to stop the spectrum, the I feel that weight of expectation on me, the desire that a part of me has to settle and achieve common objectives and reassuring. A stable job, a home. And the fact that for the moment I seem to have achieved a lot.
I arrived at the point of origin, inevitably, and I feel that everything is tight, that everything does not come back. And really do not know where to start.
Or better know what to start but apparently attempts that do not are paying ...
I want to endless horizons, days dozing on the beach, laughter and hugs, ideas, guitars, foam and anything else you can identify with the idea of \u200b\u200bbeautiful and cuddly.
Yes, maybe I just need to cuddle.
Pero 'I began to take pictures, read and take notes.
Yesterday was the Feast of the must, in one of the islands near Venice. It 's a country fair, which celebrates the beginning of the harvest with a party and a regatta of Venetian rowing (I put some pictures in my new flickr page http://www.flickr.com/photos/43288249 @ almaycuerpo N06/show / ). The lagoon and its odors are always a great source of inspiration for colors, memories of my childhood. I met again an old farmer friend of my sister, who sold his vegetables. It was an interesting face, marked by life, I am sorry for him not take photos. But perhaps it would be too intrusive.
I'm reading a lot. I'm making out a little at a time all the books back, my parents, my brother and my father. I finally finished
The Songlines by Bruce Chatwin and Luis Sepulveda's Patagonia Express . I was flooded with rivers of emotions, memories and ideas. The second book starts with a meeting between Chatwin and Sepulveda thing I did not suspect and which has created an unexpected theme.
My imagination for a moment and 'lost in Australian deserts, glaciers and volcanoes, Chilean, in conversations with Aboriginal and indigenous people. In stories that coincide with my experiences in the world at the end of the world.
And I would go back for a moment, breathing that air charge of a living history and experience ... those awful thick, almost sticky in their consistency.
Here, I want real things, emotions, interests and wriggling on days which are carrying equal and a bit 'empty. Am I missing emotional into the equivalent of a glass of water, but I assure you that sometimes it 'hard to realize their ...
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