Then there are the feast of life. Those in which the thoughts are chasing one after another, tracing the events, interpreting situations, including, debasing, robbing sense of reality. Days are dense, full of novelty and excitement. Those days in which hate can not go out except in a strange shape, sweet and smiling. Those days that begin with s disregard, pass by the repulsion, the pathetic understanding, the desire to escape. You drown in alcohol and in the farce, rejoice in the dome seen from afar, the sky wonderful and olive trees, read the words and abundant food, falsipiani of the landscape, with two new eyes, the idiocy found, the pounds lost and found, the circus and its smoky dreams. Innocent honesty that you wanted more.
There are those days that it would unravel a whole blog. And the post would blunt the power of being alive. And I think that fans, after all, is that why you did.
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