fingers if he felt heavy, trembling in front of the PC keyboard while Yann Tiersen flowed from the coffers of his CD player .
rings he wore the ring on the index and burned, they felt like lead weights that prevented her from returning to hop on those keys, each with an assigned letter.
was scared and hesitant, was not immediately able to enter the page of his blog, so there was the time that access. He might, she could find her?
thought that perhaps all those writings, those words, those phrases, so rich and heavy with meaning for her now indecipherable and unknown, were among them, after all, a past now expired and remote.
He opened his hands and stretched over the keyboard, his fingers moved frantically as to arouse a deep numbness.
But now, despite the rings, which certainly was not raised, fingers began to resume familiar with the keyboard and cradled by notes of " Childhood "reported her mind a vague and blurred thoughts and memories, all of which pertain to the past that had written on a bright available to everyone, but not her.
It seemed almost impossible that the music could still have this effect on his mind, he was again enticing to express thoughts more than ever would recognized as his own, after being drawn on the blank page of writing.
Yes, because this was the effect it had on her well-known melodies and unknown, hypnotic effect, transit, and this allowed his thoughts to go out and enjoy themselves from head for half an hour, an hour ... To take the air "oxygen", as if they were inmates in a prison, dark and dry where they were forcibly inculcated concepts and information by outsiders who imposed on his person on the pretext of them "know the world."
take breath deeply and then taken in a fast and absurd travel more distance the more possible to her, but never leaving the room they were in, afraid to lose and they can not find more a bed and a hot meal that only one head in the prison were certain they would find.
Believe it or not, Yann Tiersen is finished with his CD Goodbye Lenin as well as I woke up and I have no more idea of \u200b\u200bwhat I wrote, even rereading not find nothing of my thoughts, my words, but perhaps maybe that's the side more sincere to me.
I go to sleep with "Far Far" satisfied that I remembered the password to enter the blog and be able to rewrite it again, even if with difficulty and doubt ...
