I feel a perfume, and around him, a scent I recognize.
E 'detergent for clothes, is the hand cream is the smell of paper.
I like it.
I feel a thrill, and around him, a thrill that I recognize, and that attracts me and scares me at the same time.
I do not know if I like it but I decided to grow it for a while '.
are days that even if I sleep very little, I'm weird dreams and wake up with the desire to write it down, let me appear as rational thoughts.
Why I need, almost always, to rationalize.
But then I decided - maybe I'm saying now, while the write-not: I can not put pen to paper too.
I thought to be the case that leaving something in my life can not be explained with open and closed quotation marks, underlining or bold? It will be the case to let my belly has its output without feeling compelled to take a wand to make her stand still and good sitting in its dock?
So maybe when I say " ok, now you're rationalizing, but what are your feelings ?" I'll also have something to declare.
I usually look around as if "feelings" spoken of were people enter the room after me by mistake because I did not closed the door firmly behind him.
But I think I'll try to listen.
'll listen to the perfume that I like, and we hope that really does have something to say.
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