September is coming soon, violent pink skies and purple sunsets must be closer. Yes, I still take pictures of the clouds and I keep looking directly at the sun. It's hard to see this vanish like an August's shooting star. Sometimes I understand, sometimes I don't, sometimes I think I do, but who knows... it has become a beautiful maze, a great labyrinth. Our lies are amazing and I keep forgetting that this is not a different place; I forget that I'm gigantically tiny. Do you think that we don't belong to the air anymore? I really don't want to be the storyteller here. All the people is trying to be, just to be, they try harder everyday and don't realize that there are fireflies among them, it's heartless. I owe you the chaos and the tranquility; I owe you so much...
I know what I said about waiting, I didn't lie. I'm a short haired mermaid in the desert waiting for the water to fall down, that fascinating feeling of when you were the everything haunts me all the time.
You know better it wasn't a fugue, I miss reading Kerouac's novel on that bench outside your coffee shop, I miss brave that cold. It has been a loud silence now. "If this is what you're offering, I'll take the rain".