Photo: Le passant qui passe
* Wake up before the alarm sounds. I still think that half an hour of idleness. Try not to sleep again and inevitably set the priorities in the office. Look in the mirror and say who I see "This is not me .." and answering "no "..... eras
* Loop through each day the same way. But without being the same yesterday and maybe different when you return at noon. It's what I think now when I write, today is Sunday and routines are different. Because tomorrow, when crossing the threshold of the door, look for my tune on the mp3. She takes me away from what is known and I write other notes in the ears ..
* My first coffee in the "Rugaca." My second cigarette to savor slowly. How are you, good morning? the brunette girl who prepares it without asking me anything. His routine also. The same hours, the same faces. Almost always the same conversation "I have much sleep, I up at four in the morning. You know ...? The hardest thing, the weekends, "And I smile and I think there are more privileged routines. * Working
. Just work. None other than work. Nothing more. I try to fill it with content. If at least be a little creative!. Adorno reports. Charts, graphs, colors. And the boss always putting his imprint: a "notwithstanding" replaces a smudged "but ..". And in the final report ... "but ..". One that is Aragon.
* I have to call my mother. Not now. Be painting and I will not clutter your inspiration. I imagine between landscapes and I think there is a great beauty within. And out. Because she shimmers in soft veils his soul, dreams .. From his window observe the rainy spring that fills the park lakes. And the evening wind will pose the colors on his palette. Moist colors. Perhaps a tear will rest in the gray of the absences. Absences are also painted. Gray.
* closes the circle. A bit less of the moon. A little further to the left. A little more tired than in the first paragraph. One day less to look in the mirror. One more night of dreams. And a new chapter of equal, equal ..? sensations.
Nothing I've told you "Important." But little things are important because they write the test of life. And they become visible and almost tangible when you think. When you stop the rhythm. And meditate. And orders. And squeeze them, that matters.
Wind.
This is the first meme I write. At the request of Federal- http://fedequiza.blogspot.com/ . Thanks for thinking of me ... The rules, as follows:
1 - Put a link to the person we chose
2 - Set rules on the blog
3 - Share six unimportant things
4 - Choose six people at the end:
5 - Tell these people and leave a comment on their blogs
My s chosen ones : Wind , Chechu Arroyo , My Girl , Secretary , Rafa León , Manuel Rubiales .
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