Death is like a breakup. Survivors are thirsty. Desires confused with memories long for a place to be. Something stays incomplete. — Today I am mending my heart, knowing I’ll soon hand the keys of my family house to the buyers. I spent most of the afternoon inside this place
…when faith feels like fading away? When the alarm clock rings in the morning and we don’t have the energy to wake up? Day, after day… And what about when, after so many years spent singing loudly inside our car on Saturday nights with our best friend, after all the laughs and
I was raised staring at my dad working on and with a Commodore 64. Sweet memories of a tiny little curious kid sitting on his lap for hours and hours. Besides being close to him, I only wanted to know how drawings of small drawers could be moved inside a magic box.
An awakening on reality which comes straight when you pull yourself back into normality.