Writing in the silence of the night desk is a great enjoyment out of the window ablack-and subtly, occasionally insects, a cat, as if to directly face the mystery out of the window is the entrance to another world. You are encouraged by this mysterious andwrite, and therefore described by a spirit; just dripping in your fun, write like a god time, and that you, in fact, themselves, have teeth and determined to give up this night of sleep, endless devotion to the package hidden in a secret And creation of the king of the night.
Mystery, no matter when and where I have attracted childhood.
Such as the sky.
Summer night, not yet completely shrouded in a dark sky to live, I especially like to lay on the grass side of the pier or on the overpass, watching days. Often, after dinner with my parents I'm out on the grass side finally found a place, they just sat down and Isentence you a random chat, laugh, and say a few words, in turn returned the next dayLive in the projects. I have no one else to cross to the side face facing the sky, soon, the ear's voice to slowly far, far away, like the soul of an OBE, a day of trouble worriesfloat up, melt the clouds in the sky . At the moment, my mind waves from a long absence, but it is very familiar with melancholy.
I have always firmly believe that gratuitous cents, before the sky, was my home, I comefrom there to the longer, the more I her kind. Ear whisper like the breeze blowing infrom time to time, talk, exhorted, calling, they are hearing voices it? These strange, I do not know from the heart, or the electromagnetic waves coming from outer space, was actually so full of feelings and call, so much so that a three-year-old boy s heart,fascinated endless: that one day, he knew he Would also like to go back there.
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