was Aunt Mary who was afraid of thunderstorms. Do you, blind almost always felt as overwhelmed by all quell'incomprensibile noise of the sky.
The house of his grandfather John was great for us, sometimes immense, and even the darkest depths below those summer storms, were not afraid. It was "free port", an island of salvation for us that we were protected by the walls of old, cold but safe.
The only newly opened window, the courtyard, made me see the sky to the east; darkness mixed with flashes of gray clouds. And then the smile of his grandfather, with the safety of those who had lived life through the cardinal points.
The only newly opened window, the courtyard, made me see the sky to the east; darkness mixed with flashes of gray clouds. And then the smile of his grandfather, with the safety of those who had lived life through the cardinal points.
was joy and fear, thrill and excitement, tender words; past forever, and crossed by new and worrying time struggling to finish. Much darker. Impenetrable. Incomprehensible.
"He's out for the sun, if we're lucky the storm will end with a beautiful rainbow."
I remind you all three in the house of "forever" in my dreams, and all still to play in the summer, before another fall arrivals. Before we take away the cold.
"He's out for the sun, if we're lucky the storm will end with a beautiful rainbow."
I remind you all three in the house of "forever" in my dreams, and all still to play in the summer, before another fall arrivals. Before we take away the cold.
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