There is a movie called "The Sum of All Fears." I've never seen, the name does not tempt me at all. But there is one thing, one that catches my eye and it is because it sounds like something familiar, and that no strange coincidence, I read the blogs of my closest and dearest friends: we are all terrified. For A, the sum of all fears, responsibilities and independence finally put you in a stupor of that is coming to end of bike rides, love and evenings eating salads and fruits. I still do not discover how to shake the torpor that has been over me, I'm listless, forgetful, uncertain. I have a lucky star that follows me and not let go: thank you very much, as would the fabulous Keira in his last great film full of perfume commercial sequences, superb, beautiful. Well, the star with me I should give sufficient security to complete these last two weeks without fail or die trying, without repeating or wrong, and then launch into the life of vacationers and tourists along the streets of A Rio de Janeiro, April 1 amid hot and humid. Around
awaits the fall cold and all the uncertainties, all together. The work, money, school and responsibilities learned and still to acquire. The fear of aging transformed into a soldier assumes its resignedly at 22 years and I categorically deny deep and end up saying "I got used", or "I got over that depression and assumed that I have no life" ever. I want time to lie down under a tree to watch the leaves moving with the warm wind before the rain and, occasionally, I get bored and have nothing to do, because while I'm attacking creativity and making origami, writing in this abandoned blog, reading the books they collect dust and spiders, organizing onces with toast, eggs and cheese and juice on many cigarettes. Also turned to vice, eventually I got compulsive, obsessive, taxes, going, and everything else. I The Simpsons: Bart Millhouse and make a smoothie made entirely of syrup and I want to sit to take that drink pisco sour or exquisite to outrageous name, "pink dream" or something like that, I had a rum and sour milk and that S decorated our vessels. But Millhouse and Bart had an overdose of sugar and traveled to Las Vegas to live good adventure, half-drugged and on the verge of a diabetic coma. Do not want to fall into a coma, but all return to calm me down while I look at the ceiling, walls or half-filled bookshelf, without thinking about the shifts, morning, evening lost, enclosed in walls so that I leave and watch the day pass. Came with a skirt because they announce 31 degrees, but all day I feel the same temperature, neither hot nor cold, plain and simple. Neither cold nor hot. Here I feel that, at times I feel nothing. A tells me to explode, I say I do not want to hear anything like that, because this has already become a race and I remembered the last mile of the 10k a couple of years: he was dead, but just wanted to get. I ran as I could and once in the end, nothing else matters:'ve arrived.
