As soon as I read the subject and writing with a breath not to send you too late. To tell you the right I want to write ... I can speak freely about any close person. Hallelluja! As for the former, I not only have nothing to say, even as far as I have spoken, I have spoken a lot with regard to who to weary the soul. Even, I can barely awake one morning and forget it. Totally! I have forgotten how much and when I hear my name do not link and this inertial water to see Facebook's profile has disappeared completely.
A great, pure love puts my heart in my heart! Come on! Tonight was a fresh evening in Tirana, one of the kind of evenings I love the most. It's a fixed moment when I want to take some steps in the city alone.
Had these energizing drinks really made me wings, I would have had some good 2 to pass and Harry Style to freshen up the clouds. To breathe deeply! To be filled with strength! To dance dressed in a translucent, purple dress and to see the city as a surreal picture..Well, I would have liked to exchange a couple of words with God and myself. The second is a lot of debts and the conversation would be long.
While with the former, I think it would be more fruitful. If I could have a little talk and listen to what he would have to say to me. Perhaps, the great frustration of the words lurking in my throat whenever I try to pray in church (as a result of what I mean suddenly, and if I did not tell them I would soon forget it), it would emerge like a gut of pain and then would flow as a source. In short, I say that I would say thank you, forgive me, enlighten me and direct me.
I would thank you for all the good I have, I would apologize for the ingratitude and how little I hear. I would ask him to fill me with his values and principles. And in the end, how good it would take me to get to south of Italy. Drinking coffee on the sea edge contemplating the birth of the new day. I learned a good wine fairy, from picking grapes to baking. I learned a couple of Italian recipes, to relive my favorite Zivago waiting for the West, to dance at Tarantella's evenings and to add a few kilograms of pizza ... So that came late!
* Note: This letter was sent by a girl in Anabel Magazine's Inbox on Facebook.
