Due novembre.
Ho bisogno di silenzio.
Non voglio sentire le allegre streghe di Halloween, voglio the silence of my cozy cemeteries.
I want to walk in the roads, surrounded by thousands of mute graves, and only hear the trampling of my step on the carpet of leaves that have generously donated the plane.
Respectfully I want silence to remember those who loved me, caressed, kissed.
I want to add water to the glass where the luminous floats.
I want the illusion that "they" see and understand what I loved and what are desperate.
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