While you're sleeping in your bed fairy and the wind caresses your face in April ... the scents are all close to your nose, but your eyes are closed and open not even know
appreciate the charm of the abstract ... because you can not smell and taste do not know what you have ...
imitating and being a pale copy of what you'll never be ... a person without charm ...
While silently taste of a cigarette in my jail 'I love ...
surrender to this gentle caress of the wind in April ...
reminiscent of a time past and present those scents that makes me feel so loved ... I stupidly
down a drop of tears ... almost as if to vent ... But
as I said my father as a child ... "the wind of April is sweet but
Persistent" ... So, maybe one day I will rise like the wind in April and become
Ostinato and take everything that falls to me ...
Cristian Chiappetta
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