Hey, well no, I'm not dead. (Loul.)
Sighs disappointed shone softly ...
But what, if I have nothing to say? That Is The Question. It's crazy how many people we interact without knowing. A crowd pressed into a station that is united by a common purpose, without support, except a few misguided souls who appear in this brou-ha-ha of indifference and suddenly give voice to a lost prodigal lost in the shuffle. And in the tunnels that the dwarves have dug so cleverly, and the doors constantly open and close without emotion. And then, as in every place where the common was nothing else to do but wait, the other, the stranger whom we know nothing but which are assumed or invented everything, he who has the sad eyes, smile or wave in spite of himself, offers a moment of himself. The man with the beard a few days, all dressed in gray and old soft bag, until the child laughed in a tone of voice automatically, through the woman they wanted to relieve the pain without knowing the cause, and the man bothered by an issue that awaits a seat, everyone stands there, so close and so distant, it grabs the mantel of their lives for a moment, and ignoring everything we are, we are writing history, or rather , a story that they may live forever.
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