A long journey, the usual day of Master.
Back in the late evening. I'm really tired.
I see my home and I think of all those years ago, how things have changed, roles, in days gone by.
See your tired and aged father, your mother sees you with her eyes faded and you riimmagina small, and unable to not fear the outside world can attack the son who can not see adult.
seen that old habits have become memories and your passion and your work can not be shared, if not through stories and approximate surface that does not arouse any interest if you do not have the good manners of
I think of the past, and I wonder how this will be the future and if I get homesick when riassapererò this precise moment, that somewhere, and somewhere has already become the past.
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