Is there anyone in this wonderful world, able to tune in? In this babel of breath, never who would meet the bass and the piano ... you touch, look, and a continuous does not tighten the melody. This is a piece of a woman. That's a piece of a man. "Help me ... I'm the prisoner, will not you hear my plea I need somebody, yeah, to listen to me ... Cause I need somebody, Lord knows, to listen to me ... "
Delicata, in spite of his physical. Sweet, like a snowfall of powdered sugar on a warm caprese. He had no desire to judge always with a smile severe, had only one wish to hear the ballad of a heavy silence ...
Electra began to admit the desire and the need for a common peace of the old slow paced on ticking metronome, and he knew that sooner or later would have had to lower the barricades built with the illusion of being safe from people and made unwelcome. The
was still difficult, however, block the flow of a frantic ego which required movement at all costs to not stop and look at the huge void that harbored in with discrete nonchalance.
She looked in the mirror and s' have noticed the look out for some more line that formed the ideal staff for a new groove ...
smiled spinning on itself and went into the room to frame the beautiful pencil portrait of "The usual suspects" that his friend Coop had given her the night before.
The smell is the same, always. The music and thoughts have a smell, smooth the rough notes of vanilla with cinnamon; the smell of that they are no longer but I want to be; the smell of yellowed pages, poems and fast combinations of colors that give the illusion of serenity, a day the smell of the sea and a biting tone, crying softly to soothe the longing of a season that never comes back; The smell of red enamel set with care, sweat, my favorite color-green, the phone rings unexpectedly, a friend who will amaze you with a smile, listening to the tango- imagined and danced. The smell, which revolves around ...
It 'incredible to be able to "hear" the chain of synaesthesia fascinating multi-sensorial triggered by the harmonic melodies of some sounds.
Every time he played and sang this beautiful song from the eminently Naples, Electra had a chill that runs through the body, creating a vague sense of sadistic pleasure, his eyes half closed, mouth slightly into a smile touched a pose, his back never completely straight, fingers gently curled over the old black and ivory keyboard gave it a movement that suggests the ecstatic feeling of being part of a world, his own, he sought another world outside of the energy but without serious troubles.
He always had the idea of \u200b\u200bbeing a little 'mimosa "...
Femmene capricious is that of int'o tiempo cherries look 'and vase.
Femmene special cu 'na sempe life equally, and c'accire s'arrecrea, but understood AJE staje facenno bad about me?
Femmene intriguing, ca 'prumesse makes it a lot and was s'annascunne comme' nu robber.
Femmene addirosa ca 'Quann pienza to do' the bride goes all cuglienn cient and a thousand 'and roses.
Femmene buciarda, ca 'dint'all'uocchie suoje if he loses.
Feeling Femmene mimosa gave her courage made her feel strong and confident. It was as mask during the carnival of the soul that needed to replace the chaos of pre-established order of reality.
not leave hope, oh ye who enter here! Fear of love
A cheeky glow through the window of the bedroom that light of those orange-purple tones especially nice because warm and enveloping a light so intense asked to remove all barriers that the lord it powerfully emotional rationality . Every time she happened to abandon the no-thought, Electra felt a sense of well-being so rare in recent times to make them forget the small and obsessive rituals of re-entry into the house without knowing where he abandoned his shoes, removed his jacket always too padded for a more clement autumn , controlled the radio station had chosen as her favorite accompanying sounds, let himself go to that blessed thought that the short circuit was necessary often to no avail ... the ternary rhythm, slowly, on the track and s'assesta imagination flies in the mundane and exciting world of dreams. a few minutes of intense pleasure to give you the feeling of having left the tortuous journey of the ambitious and misleading perfection. the MIDI sound of the sea reminds her that it is time to return to the daily chores mortals, slowly opens his eyes to face that world sleazy and false reports of social work, gets back into gear again pushing the pace ternary or traveler, always light, looking for the keys to the house ... they are gone, can not find them yet, it is safe, his "dear" precision attack forces her to always leave the patch. smiles, does not care as usual and instinctively opened the door to have missed out, regardless of the fear of a stranger who invades the privacy always protected ... too will be smiling again ... maybe the desire to say goodbye to the fear of love?
The other side of love is not hate but fear. Where there is fear there can be love. I love I hate but I can not love if I'm scared. Love and fear are two currents, as day and night ... are two energies that circulate incessantly creating a state of being. is not easy to decide where to go ... Light or dark? Life or death? Love or fear? It 's easier to dare the dark, worrying about death and hide in fear. Definitely heroic walk with light, act in life, surrender to love. Why, then, I'm afraid to love?
sun is warm outside, finally Electra is having periods of pleasure as it nibbles at his nails waiting for something when he knows, will come. Play , smokes, thinks and expects to sit at the piano ... it relaxes to help short-circuit synapses and waited, smiling at the moment when the thoughts turn into that mix of emotions that you can not give a definition because it is too complicated and only you can feel like an exile. resonances, like the vibrations that surround you and give you joy. movements, such as slow finger slides on the keyboard. warm, like those of a perfect lover who knows where to explore. Sighs, such as those that will stir your heart. Sensuality such as that punishment to prevent someone gets hurt. smile, spontaneous and captivating. look, deep and superficial. What am I?
Elettra thought that the whole piece of life that had bitten his teeth had taken away the desire to want to believe. dead tired and unwilling to do anything is with eyes open; one feels like ... Watch, without seeing. Singing, not understand. Playing , not feel bad.
And look again. It is still singing. It rings again.
body flooded with peanuts, rarefied soul like a dark autumn evening, the thought restless as ever. Elettra vuless sape 'the hidden track of his desires. wanted person, 'sings' and egocentrizzarsi for a small group of people similar to you. But no, he continued to swallow the cry essential self. Vuless but little nun '. Vuless but nun vo '.
