ON AIR: Candy, Paolo Nutini
Umbria is beautiful. E 'shaped in the green, gently, almost as if the extreme forms - the high tops or plains persistent - do not exist. And then there are small towns that look to hard to believe that they can stand it, as if they were hanging on the rock. Narni is beautiful: it is a tiny medieval village with underground moderately disturbing and magnificent views of the Valnerina that I embrace and be embraced with her eyes. Well, at this point I would say that I'm ready to write brochures and obtain some money.
He was always there with me. I could meet his eyes at any time: there were no distractions, there were no computers or television sets that distracts us from us, there was the anxiety of having to speak to power and tell a pittance. I was with him, adhering to his skin, to seize every moment to be printed in this little head that often malfunction. I wrote everything in the brain in an indelible way: He sat under the gazebo, the way they sank into the bed, the Coop, the Pringles eat from his hands, breakfast with the love stuck in the eye, the words that should not be pronounce [calls clumsy, wrong, those who delay too long to get there], Céline, Buzzati, all those sunflowers, stained sheets, his sweaty head, familiarity His body simply my own, Rocca Albornoz, endless climbs, cat friendly, the restaurant with breathtaking views, Giorgio and Luca with their stockings wrinkled ankles, Palmiro, the dog vicious, the jam nonsappiamocosa, the strike of gas stations, "porcodioooo", the extra day in Narni, the underground, St. Nicholas, the Holy Office, the tank, the kisses that I can not give him a stomach ache, the waterfall Falls, all those steps, always know with me, know that you can say and do, feel free to be with him without self-defense mechanisms, to trust completely, tell him everything even the slightest thought, keep your laundry along with mine, caress her arms, worship Him in everyday life, the exceptional and the exceptional everyday. Porto's all here in this little head on which to bind the thoughts and trigger loop intolerable presumption of ill-paid and alleged love [because they paid no, it is not acceptable]. I enjoyed every second, every drop of sweat, every step, every word, every mile, every look, every alley, every breath, every smile, every moment of silence.
Eventually, though, I always mistake. Am I wrong to think that we can go beyond me that I am, that little, stupid and clumsy that his flesh has nothing to do on time and that illusion of having a hope of peace total, in the remote possibility that I might be all that He has for me.
But I'm so tired, tired even to be desired.
yet relentlessly followed. I want to live every day as euphoric familiar, I love your person every day of my life, I would not have to ever repent, I would not feel always on the brink of tragedy, I want to breathe deeply the smell of serenity. More than anything, I want to love him every day with the same consistency and constancy in return receive a smile that knows how to say no, my stupid love is not vain. It is not love this room full of problems, silence, tears, dedications and hope for eternity.
wish. I would like to live with you, I would like to pass quickly this week in an unnatural distance, I want to come down from yours. And I feel stupid now, the focus of this stupid silence me.
This morning was pretty humbling. And when I say "pretty" mean "very."
And lay you down on your rug.
Umbria is beautiful. E 'shaped in the green, gently, almost as if the extreme forms - the high tops or plains persistent - do not exist. And then there are small towns that look to hard to believe that they can stand it, as if they were hanging on the rock. Narni is beautiful: it is a tiny medieval village with underground moderately disturbing and magnificent views of the Valnerina that I embrace and be embraced with her eyes. Well, at this point I would say that I'm ready to write brochures and obtain some money.
He was always there with me. I could meet his eyes at any time: there were no distractions, there were no computers or television sets that distracts us from us, there was the anxiety of having to speak to power and tell a pittance. I was with him, adhering to his skin, to seize every moment to be printed in this little head that often malfunction. I wrote everything in the brain in an indelible way: He sat under the gazebo, the way they sank into the bed, the Coop, the Pringles eat from his hands, breakfast with the love stuck in the eye, the words that should not be pronounce [calls clumsy, wrong, those who delay too long to get there], Céline, Buzzati, all those sunflowers, stained sheets, his sweaty head, familiarity His body simply my own, Rocca Albornoz, endless climbs, cat friendly, the restaurant with breathtaking views, Giorgio and Luca with their stockings wrinkled ankles, Palmiro, the dog vicious, the jam nonsappiamocosa, the strike of gas stations, "porcodioooo", the extra day in Narni, the underground, St. Nicholas, the Holy Office, the tank, the kisses that I can not give him a stomach ache, the waterfall Falls, all those steps, always know with me, know that you can say and do, feel free to be with him without self-defense mechanisms, to trust completely, tell him everything even the slightest thought, keep your laundry along with mine, caress her arms, worship Him in everyday life, the exceptional and the exceptional everyday. Porto's all here in this little head on which to bind the thoughts and trigger loop intolerable presumption of ill-paid and alleged love [because they paid no, it is not acceptable]. I enjoyed every second, every drop of sweat, every step, every word, every mile, every look, every alley, every breath, every smile, every moment of silence.
Eventually, though, I always mistake. Am I wrong to think that we can go beyond me that I am, that little, stupid and clumsy that his flesh has nothing to do on time and that illusion of having a hope of peace total, in the remote possibility that I might be all that He has for me.
But I'm so tired, tired even to be desired.
yet relentlessly followed. I want to live every day as euphoric familiar, I love your person every day of my life, I would not have to ever repent, I would not feel always on the brink of tragedy, I want to breathe deeply the smell of serenity. More than anything, I want to love him every day with the same consistency and constancy in return receive a smile that knows how to say no, my stupid love is not vain. It is not love this room full of problems, silence, tears, dedications and hope for eternity.
wish. I would like to live with you, I would like to pass quickly this week in an unnatural distance, I want to come down from yours. And I feel stupid now, the focus of this stupid silence me.
This morning was pretty humbling. And when I say "pretty" mean "very."
And lay you down on your rug.
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