cambiamento e trasformazione
I have days where I want to be anywhere but here. The rain that whips against my windows is thick with dirt, it leaves long, cloudy streaks on my windows, obscuring my view of the city. The pavements are wet, huge grey clouds move slowly and softly above. Fog enshrouds the buildings at the city’s edges, they haunt the horizon like ghosts.
On days like this, I get restless. I feel lonely and nostalgic, and I want an escape. In my fantasy, I’m in a small wooden cabin, somewhere isolated and far, the jungle tangled outside of my window, lush, green and alive. I’m sitting at a wooden desk and writing opposite all of this, the unknown coming through my eyes and out of my fingertips.
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"io ci provo, ma sia chiaro, è solo fortuna"