was a day just colored in orange. It was orange sunset, and the reflected light on the houses. They were orange leaves, drops of water falling from the rooftops. I was orange too. Walking on cobblestones. I tried again to find the scents from which I had been away for too long. I walked to my country. I noticed the changes. Whenever a child climbed on the wall behind with a field of grass. Now there is a square, a railroad, three or four new buildings homes. And then asphalt, only a flow of asphalt. This day was not gray. Orange was also the asphalt.
My thoughts were light. I tried desperately to get used to living alone again with me. To start from scratch. I was fired. I did not want to be responsible for the dismissal of all those workers, my friends. Yet none of them had followed me when I told him to make a real protest. They were all aware of the futility of certain forms of expression. They were all destroyed. The last day of work, I did not tell anyone, but I went with a heavy heart. Human relationship that I would miss a lot. Besides, I could not tell anyone that I was leaving. The leaders had wanted my full silence and my death in the shadows.
Now. I went back to orange, my favorite color. To my perfumes. Did not have to go out and look elsewhere. Even if there was something they had polluted. My country was no longer the country. It was the first suburbs. It was becoming a residential area. Without even a lawn where to run. It was all so sad to bang his head against the wall. Despite everything I tried the charm of my childhood, the places where I was cycling. The lawns of the huge football matches, the green knees and my sunset orange.
The street was all colored in orange, a beautiful light. A different light. It was lighter thoughts, let them free to move. I thought of Monica, who for more than six months did not hear. I imagined that within a year would be made at home with our daughter or us. Perhaps the light of reason had returned, and went to have an abortion really. The idea of \u200b\u200bhaving a child, they can not give him the love he deserves, not even wanted it in reality, an idea that I was tortured. I could never tolerate that situation. Especially now that I was without a job.
The road was beautiful, the cobblestones of the old town was that fortunately was. The sun bounced off its light on the porches white. Now the colors were orange and black to make her reign. As in a painting, as in the postcards, that place seemed remained frozen in time. Had not changed at all. The old town was always equal to itself. We all had a great respect for that place. None of us were never allowed to play football there. There was a small staircase which led to the top of the tower. On that scale I gave my first kiss. As practically all my friends.
Under the porch of the old town was a real estate agency. The same that had helped me find my house. I saw Michael out by that agency. Who knows maybe she was buying the house. Although the house had already. Who knows what was he doing in there.
I saw again, get in that agency. The days with my adviser to look at homes, compare prices, and there was always something that did not convince me. I imagined my house like the future love nest myself and my partner. Instead, I was a bachelor, and not so attractive, as I was without work.
In those days to fight the boredom I picked up my Telecaster, of course, orange, and had taken a bit 'to play. While I was playing, my phone rang. It was Michael, I asked to see us at the bar. He had an important proposal for me.
My thoughts were light. I tried desperately to get used to living alone again with me. To start from scratch. I was fired. I did not want to be responsible for the dismissal of all those workers, my friends. Yet none of them had followed me when I told him to make a real protest. They were all aware of the futility of certain forms of expression. They were all destroyed. The last day of work, I did not tell anyone, but I went with a heavy heart. Human relationship that I would miss a lot. Besides, I could not tell anyone that I was leaving. The leaders had wanted my full silence and my death in the shadows.
Now. I went back to orange, my favorite color. To my perfumes. Did not have to go out and look elsewhere. Even if there was something they had polluted. My country was no longer the country. It was the first suburbs. It was becoming a residential area. Without even a lawn where to run. It was all so sad to bang his head against the wall. Despite everything I tried the charm of my childhood, the places where I was cycling. The lawns of the huge football matches, the green knees and my sunset orange.
The street was all colored in orange, a beautiful light. A different light. It was lighter thoughts, let them free to move. I thought of Monica, who for more than six months did not hear. I imagined that within a year would be made at home with our daughter or us. Perhaps the light of reason had returned, and went to have an abortion really. The idea of \u200b\u200bhaving a child, they can not give him the love he deserves, not even wanted it in reality, an idea that I was tortured. I could never tolerate that situation. Especially now that I was without a job.
The road was beautiful, the cobblestones of the old town was that fortunately was. The sun bounced off its light on the porches white. Now the colors were orange and black to make her reign. As in a painting, as in the postcards, that place seemed remained frozen in time. Had not changed at all. The old town was always equal to itself. We all had a great respect for that place. None of us were never allowed to play football there. There was a small staircase which led to the top of the tower. On that scale I gave my first kiss. As practically all my friends.
Under the porch of the old town was a real estate agency. The same that had helped me find my house. I saw Michael out by that agency. Who knows maybe she was buying the house. Although the house had already. Who knows what was he doing in there.
I saw again, get in that agency. The days with my adviser to look at homes, compare prices, and there was always something that did not convince me. I imagined my house like the future love nest myself and my partner. Instead, I was a bachelor, and not so attractive, as I was without work.
In those days to fight the boredom I picked up my Telecaster, of course, orange, and had taken a bit 'to play. While I was playing, my phone rang. It was Michael, I asked to see us at the bar. He had an important proposal for me.
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