Day with closed shoes, very early this year. I was stamping out
confident in my shoes this morning, but then I went back to get my sneakers.
September: the only time of year when I put my sneakers, the arrival of the Christmas market, the fair, and so on.
September, new beginnings.
hang a picture, remove the open-air cinema poster from the fridge, you feel the need to be embraced, with the arrival of the first frost. 
In these days of new beginnings I feel the need to re-read things I've read, as if I needed to return to an area where I walked, to review as it is now that I am completely different. Things quickly. Some pieces of essays, some short story by Flannery O'Connor, the ending of a novel by Barth, and then Pascale.
E 'that happened while I was at sea I find bedside table is a collection of short stories by Pascale that had been forgotten there for a bit 'of the summers before my friend. For a moment there I noticed. But then there was one night when I could not sleep a wink because I fought with the fear that there was a mouse under the bed. I'm not a scary time, almost to nothing, but the mice terrify me. It was late and I could not wake anyone, and I would not get up because I feared that I could have come face to face with my enemy. So I started to (re) read.
Was it all that silence and the low light, but the tension has eased the fear and I found myself surrounded by a kind of closeness to certain words and certain suspensions.
I'm back on a road already traveled and I've found something completely new. E 'was exciting.
The next morning I reported the matter to my friend and she said she finds that there is a kind of correspondence between my character and the way in which he writes Pascale.
I felt very flattered.
Then, however, the mouse was really. But maybe I should be his grateful.
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