Sometimes bright days, bright, in which walk down the street feeling powerful, indestructible, beautiful, beloved. In the closet that I leave in the distance, the difficulties and uncertainties, and dress with all the assurances it has given me my relationship. Sometimes there are days when the donkey is not relevant is far away, where I find myself doing panoramas and take a coffee with him after the hit or make the truant of my English course and go to eat ice cream sitting on the giant hill.
Sometimes there are days when you just want to hug him. In which after the sound of alarm clock, my bed and half square makes me a huge and inhospitable place without his back and without her freckled shoulders and my kisses. In all my thoughts fly to her side, with the sweet slumber of the spring warm, sleepy, nap and lingered.
Sometimes there are days when I get to check that everything is in order: the reservation for the hotel where we will spend New Year's night in Valparaiso, bus tickets, the department arrendaré in Mendoza, the flight. I do it as if it could manage anxiety, as if taking care of the details of our reunion, 35 days until we have unfinished kiss that were to happen faster.
And there are days like today where I have pain. In those who just want to kiss him and I know I can not. Where no safe way down the street, but looking at the floor. In which I do care who lives far away, who does not speak English and can not get ice cream with me this afternoon.
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