There was the July sun that reminded us we were in summer. The rock was as unruffled as before, the time when we mastered the passing hours, around the fire cooking our meals. We spend hours now to remember this time to score more before the end of this mysterious, emotional and finally flesh.
We go at least in our fair land and the few opportunities to see become too expensive, crippling. It was all over these drafts evenings missed. Every opportunity should be perfect and now that our growth crisis is over, the luxury of being able to grow at our own pace often seems very heavy for our frail shoulders.
Why do we idealize what happened? I do not know but the only important question is why complain about it. We had the chance to live all those moments, to know , then do nothing figeons, agree to evolve, each at our own pace. He is furious and punctuated marriage, married life and children, it is curious and slow, full of travel and meetings. Be it the third way, full of everything and nothing, mixtures, or interbreeding, living and thinking, pride and laziness, smiles and disqualification.
Life offers us the chance not to control everything and a friend told me that growing up was to accept it. The experiences she takes us through are often cruel, the intensity of the moment, by the distress they cause but mainly it seems to widen the gap between us and those who remain. Have the courage to plug this gap, without any complacency. Remain ourselves and learn to accept themselves, to listen and to forgive.
This summer, I too often felt to be a spectator of scenes too theatrical to be true. The players played a role worked all winter. The skits burned and chained themselves not envy, I stood on the stage, an error. Burn the planks which had played this bad drama and dream my friends, but all dream of ensembles.
Why do we idealize what happened? I do not know but the only important question is why complain about it. We had the chance to live all those moments, to know , then do nothing figeons, agree to evolve, each at our own pace. He is furious and punctuated marriage, married life and children, it is curious and slow, full of travel and meetings. Be it the third way, full of everything and nothing, mixtures, or interbreeding, living and thinking, pride and laziness, smiles and disqualification.
Life offers us the chance not to control everything and a friend told me that growing up was to accept it. The experiences she takes us through are often cruel, the intensity of the moment, by the distress they cause but mainly it seems to widen the gap between us and those who remain. Have the courage to plug this gap, without any complacency. Remain ourselves and learn to accept themselves, to listen and to forgive.
This summer, I too often felt to be a spectator of scenes too theatrical to be true. The players played a role worked all winter. The skits burned and chained themselves not envy, I stood on the stage, an error. Burn the planks which had played this bad drama and dream my friends, but all dream of ensembles.
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