am There were days when you were doing with the dreams of a group who rode to power. There are were moments in which dreams in a perpetual year zero. You had a smile that led to the gaze of anyone not in a moment. You were like the old rum drunk in the afternoon of August throat. Playing in seedy bars of mortar suburbs of Ferrara. Did you smoke while you were inadvertently misplaced your Camel envying those who could not hear. You wanted all the while nothing envelops you without any remedy. The body that plays your rock was exhausted, his only companion his breath. Metallic sounds in layoffs treading the boundaries of your feelings. With no more reaction. You were not what I wanted too long. You were not the most cheerful drinker Porto in a dusty wine cellar off against. Trampled night by sliding your hands on the walls filled with writing politicized. We wore only the occasional involuntary kindness in the eyes of passers-by. At one point, aware of everything waiting for it calasse the curtain and set designers mutassero the scene.
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