in the south from a distant land lived men from the north of another country , it was there a long time , but every time I think about it, because now I live in a building that was not there a hundred years old , so of course I know who I am , but how to explain what I feel , this constant motion of the heart , the beat to infinity ends one day, but for now the body works up ' the next time , the feeling of taking the path that leads somewhere, but I'm sure the day will come one day, perhaps after night, as expected extreme madness in every sense this time because justifies life is a moment after another , intentions to do well, hollow exchanges, green passages , but immediately it is brown because autumn is over, it's always the same, can not do what you want , wait , turn instead of going straight , but I'm starting to know what to do , it comes slowly, fortunately we have time for discover what it takes to not be in the same place , it does not change , this is another way to organize to not jump to the next time because what I want to do is exactly what I am , to the nearest centimeter , with no chance to catch me because there is enough space , it can go , I have studied the question, what can happen is a small step to the side , like this one is able to see otherwise, it is little but still, it can orient differently, a restrained joy , movements in the night, and finally a large pastry that hurts the stomach , too much cream