painful
How does one writes when he feels his soul emptied of everything he held most precious and most dearest? How does one still creates if everything dies, if everyone dies, even hope? Life has been a mess and although I used to write a lot about nearly everything, I just don't give in too many about what happens with me or in my life. It has been a mess and once things seem to start going well, something comes along and wrecks havoc. It's OK. I'm used to it. Tonight has been another of those nights. I thought about you, auntie. I think about you daily and you were right. I'll remember you way very too often. And it would be OK, if I could make the ten minutes walk and see you in your house. But you no longer live there, the house that is or was for sale is empty and it's no longer your home. Now, its just an empty apartment in this city and our memories no longer live there. Way too often, I take glimpses at pictures of you and I see small videos that I made with you