PAINTING YOUR ROADS

Some dreams are dreaming me. You can define life with marvelous words however it is incomplete because if your definition is correct it is not longer life, but in this moment I want to define it by using a methaphor: life is an orgasm, it is complete because the words of a poet say always more than what is written. I want to tell you I am here because you are there, I am here to feel at least for some ephimerous minutes the aristocratic respiration of Cleopatra. I am here because I was born to be here painting your roads with brigther colours, do not think about the writer, but rather about what he tries to say because that message is eternal.