one day of the month I do not know what month, I thought, well, I'm fine, since I keep telling myself to expect, this is not the time, then fine, because hopefully for a long time, it goes, it goes, it goes down, I keep balance, a bit of everything, I look at the other, it amuses me, I am what I am, then I think, how to be, that make that wish, do things, live well, seeing bodies, telling stories, believe someone sniffed the like to believe they are someone, it reassures them, but I am only that what I am, I always am, I was, and I will until the day he will anyway not believe in tomorrow because there is more than ever important thing day I 'm not ready to live, I live for some time but not enough to write my memoirs, because what matters most to me is the ability to live well in the present, but it begins in some way, I not sure to continue because what I prefer is clear situations when it's dark it's the end when I do I prefer it's still live what I live, then I look for time is chosen, it is a preferred organization, ie it prefers afternoon to do nothing, while in the morning it can do things, and then sometimes I spend time to ask me, and if I could still go faster, how can I see what happens in closer, this is a question I ask myself when I'm tired