I pass bits and pieces of memories seeking.
It is quite different from time to time,
become friends, messages from different countries.
Always written to the moon, the sun,
I dream them up to the stars.
When I write,I can climb inside somebody
words created by nirvana.
The light shines in my soul, then the
I do not walk on the dark,
hand of a friend I have in my hand looking for.
In me there is too much wrong with the philosopher,
one of his hands in the dung of the world for nothing dirt.
I applaud the life, thank you very much
large group of friends, these
strong and weak at the ends.
Thank you for writing in enduring, stubborn woman.
Today I can cry, or laugh,
You can not know the future.
Maybe it mourned the current will pass.
Always remember the 90's and the beginning
of a very painful.
Then I struggled, I fought against the clock.
I had a friend when a strong philosophical,
He took hold of the hand of this fallen angel.
I knew at the time what it feels like to get the bog,
to get things put under a strong rock, sturdy March.
To get the will to live to the fullest, and the wind to run
waves of the sea as a whirlwind ride.