you are not a lot of lonely nights in my living room. In my living room many solitudes are not shared with me. Had to be: this space, which sometimes reminds you and you seem to see you sitting on the couch, going to be another that does not even know your name, never saw you here and know that when you laugh you's achin eyes. There will be signs of your years here. Which is invisible yet sometimes becomes visible. In my bathroom you only have the memory of the surprise that cover lifted. But no more. This house will be within a few days, a white house. It is incredible that it will be something of yours. Nor is it something of yours on me. That was it, no?
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