This time the style a bit 'bohemian hired him away from home, away from Rome.
Pisa, Lungarno Pacinotti 21:30 h approximately.
I'm here, sitting cross-legged on the wall above the River.
Tonight is the apotheosis of the style Doom: coming out here to a crowd of unrequited love; around with a backpack and a suitcase without having found a place to sleep.
It 's the first time that I take and I leave for a city, so, out of the blue, without telling anyone, just a few friends, and with no plan in detail the journey.
I feel alive.
Even if the night is sad (and that's what makes me really damn), I feel alive.
For the first time I listened to my crazy part, the part that is not their ignorance, but place (was not listening all that carefully filed). Today I wanted to listen to and follow.
Even though my heart is broken tonight, I do not regret my gesture. Masochism?
No, this is life.
The adrenaline of doing something new, unknown ...
The excitement at seeing his eyes ...
The pain of a love one-way ...
The sense of adventure in the search for a hotel now complete ...
This is life.
And I'm living.
Now they are on this wall, writing under a lamp and a cigarette between his lips.
tonight I'm a dead poet.
I like it so much ...
and rethink what has been, to what are now here, now, I smile widens dropping this cigarette.
How good will, between some time this evening to remember.
Among a bit 'of time (not much or as little as I know), this story will make me smile.
For now, I still light up a cigarette ...
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