E 'the epitaph on the tomb of Yeats ... And frankly, right now, it is also one of my blog ...
not fair cabbage (I hold) was created for other reasons, his post showed the people the real me, what I really am, what I experienced during this period (since he was born that is) .. . The last things I wrote, however, are also distressing to me: if the father is not angry crashing the computer to the wall every time I reread them ... And I do not want him, the blog, is forced to bear this burden, to hide in if my whining, my sorrows, without being able to listen or respond consolare.Quindi ... I decided as long as things remain like that and my soul is driven only by horses blacks (sorry Phaedrus, white ones do not have made) him and nobody else will know more than me (because there really is not much to know ...). I feel sad, that's all ... and certainly not from me ... I'll leave hours dear blog, but think to you every now and then, when I ran happy to tell all, or if instead I ended up crying on the keyboard, always finding the good or evil smile ... You were a friend, my weapon of steel to take on the world blog ... Hello, I hope to return soon ...
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