The wind is strong and the weather is not so cold. It all reminds me of lost memories . Of summer days. I’m going there again. I can feel the same air , but even though I can feel it,…I know I won’t feel the same old song and mood. Something’s lost, or it’s me that I want the same things .
I can feel
the wind as being me and as me being it.
I’m not all lost. I’m just lost in old times.
Every summer is like an ingido. The waiting for. And the results are always tears for not being what I thought was promised for me. Something must change but I’m in too deep in lost memories to know what first step is right. And I’m waiting for this another summer which is at the door and I wonder still. And I will feel it all with too much intensity . and on repeat. What should I change? Me? Or … But how can I stop wishing for things that are so deeply parts of me?
Every summer is like an ingido. The waiting for. And the results are always tears for not being what I thought was promised for me. Something must change but I’m in too deep in lost memories to know what first step is right. And I’m waiting for this another summer which is at the door and I wonder still. And I will feel it all with too much intensity . and on repeat. What should I change? Me? Or … But how can I stop wishing for things that are so deeply parts of me?
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