I'm very good for writing.
Well, they say.
ago I was born and twenty-eight and the best I can be assumed, in my long list of broken hearts I have now is a small, little late, but for me, a bit much. It is not enough not confused.
'm like a leaf You know? Of those that fall in autumn after a process of "maturation" and is carried away by the wind to your destination. Gently and slowly guided, for better or for worse.
No one understands the reasons, just that we, in attempting to understand, believe so. There is no reason for that. Things that exist have a reason and a parallel coexistence. Depends on each one the number of ways, I like both.
Close your eyes is the beginning.
Writing is the beginning.
finally convinced
that has begun is to be on the road.
Welcome. For the umpteenth time.
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