A GB 
Touchè
Per cui non scrivo, neanche quelle lettere a nessuno, neanche quei raccontini oramai pluripubblicati che faccio una fatica intollerabile a ricordare miei. Ecco, Tranne appunti spot
[1] senza anima e without a counterpoint, only a tie from time to time invented, restored, cleaned, you need to order more to keep them together for that idea, here, other than that, nothing.
So all those little things that make them happy and difficult month, added to my DNA and indolent to a strange pseudo-astral conspiracy that leads to fatigue and commitments profusion, therefore, I said, all these things give a series of failures-failure- hardships that often put aside like crumbs under the couch.
One of these is to pretend that the changes do not exist, all in a beautiful frame to frame late romantic, freeze some relationship in which there was intensity, correspondence, plans and admire, there close to Grenci, including cigarettes, hasty breakfast, the Castorama and fjus, the calculations on which the red lights have shorter, reviews and recessions, books, meetings, agendas that lord it numbers of plumbers, dentists and estate agents, all there together as if there were instead of the fluid material capable of making their own way. I am speaking of friends, mostly.
And then, another of the many: having neglected my feelings, or rather not have it encoded and tracked.
Mea culpa for having left out many times with real people who had shared with me strange and tragic joys more or fewer ideas, or certainties agreed at the last minute. E Mea Culpa for aver tralasciato fogli e inchiostri e dannazioni miracolose.
Ma, ahimè, alle soglie dei miei 31 anni mi ritrovo proprietaria di un debito vitalizio, di 5 fjus, di un lavoro che non mi piace, di una camera da letto rovere sbiancato, di una pausa pranzo davanti al pc, di una nuova residenza, di sopraffazioni aziendali, incensamenti aziendali, di scarpe col tacco, un fegato grosso, il trucco del giorno prima, bottiglie di birra vuote, il moment nel portafogli, chiavette usb, “innovazione”, riunioni, “il mare nel cassetto le mille bolle blu “…
E l’incapcità di raccontarlo.
Questo non toglie nulla al friccico emotivo che mi scalda ogni giorno e le ore accese e le idee e soprattutto dreams. This does not mean anything to share, curled up, clinging, peeled, bed, settled, unpacked, built.
not detract from the whispered and shouted, danced. This is perhaps to store and filter through the many things that are served in the moment and will not, and what remains to leave traces that bully you off anyway, granite and irreversible, even if not backed up sheets. This rather has to do with my tray of wonders, filled and labyrinthine, but precious, that does not need to mark the hours, memoranda and budgets, but boring in the order granting emotional mess of a room and has room until I want and no clock.
[1] terror here and to start talking about that ugly slang aziendalese that shun, but that harass my ears for eight hours a day - today I heard a phrase that sounded more or less, and playing is an understatement - " the person most skill "
