Heavyweight
I told you about strawberry fields
Boys do not cry, do not you think?
are simply too many memories that come to her mind, and there is not enough space for each of them. While traveling the same road that brought him home after being born, the same of his childhood, the same way his teenage drunk and rambling ... They may be the same? Were the same person the child, the child attached to his robot made of LEGO, the teenager from the fumes floating dell'haschisch? And who was it now? Well here's Another place you can go the song and asks questions without answers. It 'also important to know who he was could have been? Overlapping memories, his mother a hairdresser, a bleak song of Raf 80s, the town square empty and bare, Joan and Claudia that mimic the "sliding scale" from the window of the Chinese restaurant, the smell of grass that seems popcorn salt Thick plumes of smoke from the blue Cylon. Her lips smiled real estate, everything is mixed in an instant, seem to find the key to the problem but an agreement too keen to sweep away the new trail route from memory.
Looking through the bent backed tulips to think of others. The other other other ... It is always pleased to recognize in others, to find himself in relation with others, but brings everything to himself. Time. The other time, the time of memory, time of forgetfulness, the will to remember, the right to be there, stay there, its, theirs, the mutual know how to bridge the gaps, and also stay in themselves. Along a road made of memories, impressions, feelings that take the stomach and head, past, present and future, there would appear so clear and yet so much to do, or just anything. The dark road runs under the car as a black ribbon, the music fills the cockpit, and in a magnificent moment everything seems so full of meaning as to render unnecessary the attempt of a story.
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