Beginner Tennis Rackets

there is snow in my memories ...
there's always the snow!
the brain goes blank and I
if not stop reminding
part is a little 'die
compared to what you love because
leave a little'
of ourselves in every place at every moment .
It 's a pain
thin and definitive as the last line of a poem ...
Leaving is a bit '
die from what you love. It starts as a joke

before travel and every last goodbye

sow a bit 'of our soul.


"beaks then a fork and you say that your life has taken a strange turn, a state riddled almost abandoned, which passes only happy people, now and then, on a small diesel motor home or bike zebra, people running to slow where you expect. and run the white rectangles on the road, and beside the world goes through a decidedly unnatural speed, definitely the colors are more saturated, like a sudden fog bank, but the look you finer, and the view is pure evolution of the species. my proverbial lack sense of direction becomes prophetic, I never pass through here, but I know where to go. I wonder if it is specific dream, I say ok, but if I wake up I'll kill you. "

faith forlani