Melted Plastic Bag Smell

Intuition ... who loves life

In times when we must take
a very important decision, it is best rely
impulse, passion, because reason usually

tries to move away from the dream,

citing the justification that has not yet come forward.

The reason is afraid of defeat. But the intuition
loves life and the challenges of life.
; (Paulo Coelho )

mail PomodoroZen

Recently, in the vein of poetry ... boh, I'll catch the flu, I do not know what to say.

But it's true. Thinking too much is bad, in fact. The more we think of something, the more we torture, sometimes it's good, because the voltage can produce very good, sometimes bad, because in the long run becomes a mania. Become an attitude.

If you exceed a certain limit risk and most decide not to give up everything because in the end, yes, you've found the handicap ... and then see who was better?

Hmmm.

A little 'as if they note the passing of the ditch behind your house, where sometimes you find something to float, say, a bottle or a head of radicchio gone bad. Or a flower or leaf color, see the slide and you want to go closer to see, maybe take a sprig and picking them up. But then you do not, because all the pieces of wood that are always too long or too short, the soil seems too soft, too slippery grass, the sun beats on the water is too strong, the current too fast. Do not you feel even that much in form as to risk of falling. You see, there'll never get. It was even better if I got up, I will. I could save myself the trouble.

forgive And I sit, watching the leaves to follow his path, light on water. The keep looking and you realize that the current was not so strong, look, goes so slowly ...

The keep watching, even when it disappears behind a bush. The continue to think about when they entered the house with all those beautiful reddish.

Maybe plant was. Who knows when it is detached, who knows why. A storm? A gust of wind? I wonder where are your sisters. Who knows. Who knows.

I look and look in the mirror. You would wash and dry and you would have used as decoration. Or you would have stuck in her diary. It would have been able to stay a whole season with you, it would take more colors, more subtle, more off. It would be annoyed.

The'd found at the end of summer and you would smile at the thought of that winter that seemed to end up more, the desire to go back outside to hear the children play.

And then ...

No "and then", I guess.

Thinking too much hurts. Reason to find fault at any cost.

seems crazy, it's true, but it is not. It happens.

And not just with the leaves.

(A appeal, if you want to sign)