giovedì 14 maggio 2015


Next time we'll be older, but not old.
And this is the only thing I need to tell you before you leave.
And you know the reason why I can tell this.
It's because of the portrait I hide somewhere, growing old in my place, while I run in this crazy, sick and ritarded world, wasting time.
That's what I exactly do.
So young as I am.
Like eighteen years ago.
Same little girl, trying to escape this little world and these little persons.