I often dream houses collapsing.
Today I got a bulldozer and knocked down in front of the house as if it were cardboard. You know when you tear the cardboard boxes and packing the broken form of the odd shapes [tags: stacks / serrated summit of the mountain / but also badly cut slice of cake] es'affloscia a little bit? The walls of the house as you are bent outside the skin of a banana. Mom said, "and that we think we are safe within the four walls and yet it takes so little."
Just nothing.
And then the daughter of neighbors who greets me and tells me I've changed. I would like a face stock, a brain to think of the good ones just enough, good to have children and little more, little pain and a lot of substance. Those faces where you understand everything and that should not stand there and explain the whys and wherefores of things. Just stay close to faces like that, coming down like the house of cardboard and is under just nothing, the effect is twofold, hate them and hate yourself.
So I just trust in objects or moments. As this night, for example, at 5, my grandfather came in the room where mom and I slept with a telescope in his hand, exclaiming Eli, come and see the moon that all look in a Fellini film or in that ' Gondry and grab more of a feeling without asking for anything, perhaps because life is too naked moments of magic and dreams.
Happiness does not paint it in pastel colors or in uniform strokes. Happiness is to survive, it is sure to love again of living of accidents, fights, bruises. Can not do without pain.
Now I have a pair of thick woolen socks hand made by my grandfather and aunt novantottenne smile, and I see mom smile, thinking because it tries to remember something, putting on the drums, bass and so on, and I look at the feet, admiring my new, very comfortable peppe men - stopped by my grandfather.
Happiness is a pair of slippers used.
ps Annalisa Scarrone official impersonator named Jenny Schecter.
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