The hidden reality...

Yesterday my feelings were strong before I could know the disturbing risks of knowing the pain of your departure; very far, how far away was our situation When I started writing and with your beautiful song, you finished ...

Wrinkled sheets of paper are found while my mind wants to calm down, smile and be able to love freely even though the fog covers us, while the painter highlights his great and beautiful works that hang in the story, a reader who imagines and a child he simply writes like the unsuccessful pianist who only plays a piece... equally to clowns who are sad under that big smile ...