Funny maybe the feeling that I have is corrupting my supposed-to-be-pride. I may confess I felt some weekness today while putting apart some things, I felt like… “what the shit im doing?” or “whattahell”, but I cant explain where the hell she had her cell phone stolen and we went to the police dept. to register a occurrence, and then a Sicillian man was so pissed there and then I told him “hard time hum?” and over the sudden he embraced all my moment tentions calling me a mother fucker, with a Manhattan accent, and then I felt like I was back home, in US. The most strange part of all is that I felt like I could mate the so happy childhood with a not-so-past relationship, while living in a strange American Brazil, but I felt real when she tenderly said…” I cant live like this anymore…” and I said “yeah, so, we wont, its over…”, and she had my heart in my hands when she almost cried… I felt so bad… but then I gave her a kiss and I tried to carry on… Things will be better in a way, I’ll miss her skin and lips, kiss and hips (needed to rhyme… ), when I came back to my dad’s place, I dropped by to the Italian’s guy and said a hello, in a way he helped to forget all the regret. I’ll try to listen more to some Hendrix and try to play them while I keep in touch with myself, keeping any kind of bad feelings in the guitar while I play her… actually, I’ll make a crazy thing on my sunburst guitar, I’ll paint her with some white flowers… make some new things… I need to try, otherwise I wont give a chance to myself… people, I love you all, even knowing that anyone reads this crap… kisses to all!
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