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Cool.

And when tonight I'll hold under the blankets, shelter from the bitter cold that will not leave you a moment, pretend you close to me, shall imagine that touches your skin smooth mine.
Your hair annoyingly creep through his fingers. I'll see your belly rise and fall as you breathe so lightly that I almost wonder if you're still alive. Imagine your own eyes that suddenly open up and look at me surprised and aware. I'll watch your eyes huge and filled with the infinite, and slowly, as I swipe the back of the fingers, I go to sleep happy. And I dream so beautiful that I do not know if I'll wake up more then.

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But more than an impression, the light is not .... (Text-to sing a song recited)

Looking directed elsewhere, a lost time now ...
kissed my lips and seems to die to do anything else,
As a child in the first
love you took my hands in the wind that makes us scratch.
now crossing the looks, you can not even give me more than looks, because you know those eyes, Possoni not just hide, hide nothing about you ..
For fear that that fire once so fiery, you recover and you know ..
but still can burn a fire is a fire and not enough ....

Not a tear but so many and so many other words, talking about everything, but nothing that has to do with us, because it was only love and no, it was not.
together experience something different
And the universe was as big as us, but the stars you know .. Sooner or later all finiscon.
And the light is quick, but not enough for the universe.
Like a star now turned off, you came to me,
The light was still there, but more of a fingerprint, the light is not ....


This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License .

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Carillon The Silent ...

Slowly the muscles of the fingers meant that the handle revolved and revolved ... When he finally stopped after a few fractions of a second, the carillon began its slow and gentle sounds of the storm: One after another the notes flowed MISC in almost faint stream of music ...
And the more the music progressed more increased in intensity and the harmonic structure is more complicated.
It was not like others to chime, melody no end, no loop. She was born and went on and on as an individual is born and lives ... Suddenly the notes became strange, no more harmonious and happy, tapering back, lowered in intensity and turned into one great harmony, sad melody ... More and more feeble, more and more similar to the silence. Till those who had known only the beginning could still sense the trend. The new listener would not hear anything. Only a beautiful decorated box looked at carefully and that gave a vague sense of unease, she continued to play in silence as the notes had become too sad to be heard by those oncoming and too painful (and mind you that pain is quite another thing that sadness) for those who now could only guess ... The sad melody now belonged only to the chime and no one else. The newcomers saw only the happy image. Those who heard the start of play preferred to ignore, now, the painful musical intuition and how the new listeners who were not more than viewers, marveled at the joy of colors and shapes so you can listen to it again devote much more cheerful harmonies and abandoning that single, dark melody.
A colorful, cheerful beautiful Carillon infinitely sad in its loneliness ...
















Carillon The Silent ... by Emanuele Bignardelli is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License .
Based on a work-at publication racconti.blogspot.com .