A rouge file, my lady, that rolls and rolls all my life. That passes through knots and that often seems illogical and unjust, but there is nothing unjust in life, because I do not believe that life makes the effort to give moral judgments on what (omissis) And...
and in general to the men of good will Ah my lady, if she knew how much I miss her, her yellow silk dress, the lamp with soft light, the calm that I found in here. I do so many things and it's like I didn't do any of them right: sometimes you know, I stop and...
Women's Friendships There are words that shape the air, come out of a white sheet, from an email for example, and they pose nice to draw shiny curves of an intense blue but with a thin track, as well as when looking through an ancient glass, so thin it seems that amp and it is only the intense blue stretch...
the Map of the Stars sends contradictory signals: it manages a sealed life, and then opens unexpected spiragli, and raising the eyebrow lifts a flap of heavy fabric that opens glimpses on a landscape made of meadows down and steep cliffs. I made a leap back, which I didn't expect any lights though...
working with males (in Veneto) So where did I stay? ah yes, to the tears of these women and the silences of these men, that I try to put them all in line to find a logical connection to these stories all so ruinously painful, painful for women, which seems instead that men scatter it...
Auff, who is tired, momentarily tired, that I am late here from her but you know, it is not unaware but it is the accumulation of doing and so much I do that I did the list as I had already told you, trying to make order, but then the list has inflated, and for something I have depenned...
Here I am sorry in a hurry to greet her and I do not even sit, that look a bit at her, I have the trapeze wool coat that makes so much fanè instead of vintage, the cap with the visor that makes so much worker instead of painter of Montparnasse, the fleece gloves of Son that I am very much...
that is the importance of words There are in the background to the page where you read the mail, a series of words that no one ever reads. They are words written in small, just mentioned, that none of us ever have time to want to read: the usual useless words. (Instead the words all have their meaning, and they are not...
He spills and I'll let myself get. I look at it in the eyes, but then I close them, that strong and too many are my emotions, I do not know what end they would make me do, and we roll under the table, as if we were 15 years old and instead I lived at least 100 lives myself, that I could count and tell.it is extraordinary...