Tonight I worked a little, I was full of distractions.
Today I wanted to do many things, but then the day she left without giving me time to finish everything.
Today I have been shopping, I cooked a good dinner, I read, I worked the little that I have worked, then I cleaned the kitchen and now I started to see a little film.
Tonight I miss Venice, for reasons that are mysterious to me too.
Tonight I miss many things, but I do not know how to name them.
When things were laid to rest meticulously, from piles of blankets, from mascara, sandy summers, from shoes worn and new shoes, especially by pounds of paper by pounds of paper - and music is always different, then you do not know their names. You recognize, perhaps, smell, or color, you acknowledge that melancholy that envelops of sweetness and bitterness, but more bitter, but you do not know if you want to find really, and you are not able to name them.
Tonight I lack the words, and maybe that's why I've been working too little.
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