it's my fault if I am ahead in the loss of meaning for the simple reason that I miss home but for now I shine in the light of day , everything is brilliant , I laugh, I cry, I do, I know I can, I still what specific moments, the beard grows so I did not ask for and know what is happening , brush through the hair so that it can hear depths as a virtuous circle , I am ready to do anything to be in part a clear choice , but with a little chocolate on one side , which prevents me from seeing just as well as if I was in the room, but since a few weeks I am no longer there for the simple reason that comes at a delicate moment as prepare a recipe , we first put the flour, then the eggs are broken and there is the problem, we would have liked not to break them , leave them for they give birth to chicks that would raise for one day we can eat chicken we would have liked , but for now I am not willing to kill to eat , I leave this work to others who spend their time killing oxen, for then I am prepared to eat well by the butcher cut meat , but I 'm still here , then it's time I'm in the race, some by half because the other half is dead, that day when I realized that I could not continue as before , half gone, all that youth fantasy , belief in nothing, then anything is possible , but it does happen later when flickers the flame of the candle , to be in a field because after I built a stone house, it's been that I dreamed and it took me struggling to get to the point p, it was a moment very short but very high that got me the feeling of wasting my time