For three nights, at the same time, I distressing dreams. In each of these are betrayed, abandoned, and though it may despair or go on a rampage at the end of rest and always alone. Dreams where I wake up out of breath, crying, and they seem to have the quality to be more sticky than normal, to be able to permeate the whole matter of their intangible reality. Always goes a bit 'of time before I was able to unstuck off, and little enough to score my day with a hint of discomfort, anxiety, melancholy, unpleasant dissonance.
I came back from Venice with too many thoughts to stir the pot. Sweets, to be dissolved in the warmth of a low heat, but also bitter, metallic, like the taste in my mouth that I constantly from what I have started taking the antibiotic. I would drop everything and go to the cinema to see a movie any, only to distract, to be someone else. But I remain at home, plugged closed barricade, with books open in front of two side tests. I feel lonely to have shortness of breath at times and then I think that there is luckily Tori . That in the end the Bulls are two that keep me company as I'm listening for a while 'the latest CD of Amos, Abnormally Attracted to Sin, to prepare for concert September 30. Nothing else to say. I am hopelessly and permanently unfit for any human contact.
We talk about Nostradamus, in the year 2012. Personally I think the end of the world has already begun. There is something deeply wrong in the air.
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