"If I could remember each one of the afternoons like this, when I walk among the old streets in a downtown, as I walked into a maze without eagerness, I may write histories from conversations with my woman friends. How not remember their words and lips? How wan we forget the cold breeze and the warm words who draw dreams whit the breath?.
Gray afternoon can be pretty, when in the passivity of the day, the world stops to listen itself. Thinks than the sun is off, Only only with ourselves we can arrives to stay warm.
May be is one reason more to reach inspiration in my live, to find and use the words to describe afternoons like this afternoon. Finding in the word a little of the tranquility under the cold weather, a word of love to describe a look, a smile, a long black hair or deep blue eyes... or simply, a star constellation in the face.
Here, there are not the sea. Only the streets. The mountains are covered by the cloud material"
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