See, I do not really know how to explain ...
E 'there are festivals that celebrate ... you learn that almost out of habit ...
Even when you stop believing that you almost feel guilty not to wish or to skip a date.
Christmas, Easter, birthday, New Year, the anniversary and August.
There are festivals that become addictive and are dragged into our lazy indifference.
I felt and wanted to party and I have owned one and only one.
one of those days where you do not make commitments.
you wake up in the morning and look out waiting for the sun, hoping to be beautiful and last as long as possible.
one of those days that if the phone rings answer to momentum with a wish.
A real party in short, that feeling comes from within, and drag out. Why do you do with other parties.
Where I was born this party was not there. Not that there were no schools were closed or parents at home, but does not really tell what it was that day in late spring that saw us attacking fields and pine forests. It was not clear in April that had happened.
My father spoke of bandits, my grandmother said that policy had never understood.
And I did not understand what is really celebrated.
It all seemed so secret. Distant and mysterious.
In fact, years later I made a pretty big and hard to penetrate and reluctance to get close to those mountains and ravines. Transforming the bandits in my father's rebels for freedom. Put faces to the right place and tidy stories that nobody wanted to do the right way.
Since I live in Milan my party starts at Porta Venezia.
for me, so little used to find the bands, choirs and weeders, every year is a surprise.
A riot of red punctuated by exciting flag, the one that I feel belong to me. Bella
sing hello, and do not be alone to sing like a day in the lobby of the university.
still believe. Remember
yet. And
resist, yet.
As I write, the phone rings.
- So what are you doing tomorrow? -
smiles, and my mom ... "Event"
- Again?! -
Yes, again.
E 'there are festivals that celebrate ... you learn that almost out of habit ...
Even when you stop believing that you almost feel guilty not to wish or to skip a date.
Christmas, Easter, birthday, New Year, the anniversary and August.
There are festivals that become addictive and are dragged into our lazy indifference.
I felt and wanted to party and I have owned one and only one.
one of those days where you do not make commitments.
you wake up in the morning and look out waiting for the sun, hoping to be beautiful and last as long as possible.
one of those days that if the phone rings answer to momentum with a wish.
A real party in short, that feeling comes from within, and drag out. Why do you do with other parties.
Where I was born this party was not there. Not that there were no schools were closed or parents at home, but does not really tell what it was that day in late spring that saw us attacking fields and pine forests. It was not clear in April that had happened.
My father spoke of bandits, my grandmother said that policy had never understood.
And I did not understand what is really celebrated.
It all seemed so secret. Distant and mysterious.
In fact, years later I made a pretty big and hard to penetrate and reluctance to get close to those mountains and ravines. Transforming the bandits in my father's rebels for freedom. Put faces to the right place and tidy stories that nobody wanted to do the right way.
Since I live in Milan my party starts at Porta Venezia.
for me, so little used to find the bands, choirs and weeders, every year is a surprise.
A riot of red punctuated by exciting flag, the one that I feel belong to me. Bella
sing hello, and do not be alone to sing like a day in the lobby of the university.
still believe. Remember
yet. And
resist, yet.
As I write, the phone rings.
- So what are you doing tomorrow? -
smiles, and my mom ... "Event"
- Again?! -
Yes, again.
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