22 th.

Winter rest with a warm thing , and someone opened a window. Happy Christmas, said the old man to the young maid.And young maid, with an ice cream in one hand , only could said : Slurp !, while I listened a voice, near, singing. Her voice inside the city morning , with a little rain falling, was like bells. In fact, was like a story writed on an invisible paper. I reminded the cold morning light in Lisboa, long time ago... sozinho. A man seated on a bench, asking : Should things change before ? É o mistério, said to himself, sadnesless. If time change things, things will be unknow, so believe, and you´ll see it. That´s what I said to him, while we saw that light over the river. He invited me to take a coffee, so I accepted. Why ? Because althought head believe in true faces, an idiot heart believe in a second chance. I never had had a second chance. I know it will be absurd, but I thought all of these things when she was singing. Look it in, this picture was clear : birds and bees, me, my regards, the singer, the city...well, this is the last mind running, and my hand, a worried hand on the line. But I must confess this is, after all, a faithful post. Wish you the better way to rhyme a good future. It´s a promise. É a vida. Just rockin´. Given time.