They say that writing is good, I believe they are generally right. But the more he writes, the more he bleeds, the more he hurts, the more he touches me. In fact, as my grief is unfinished, it will not end, it will remain within me as well as this deep sorrow.
No grief, no worries, no trouble. Not like the fact it really does. Just like a catchy word for me.
I really like to laugh, but I feel like I'm forgetting to laugh again. My son is a maniac, you're looking for trouble in a place where you don't have a problem? I hear you say.
This summer so many things to be told is accumulating and carrying. I pray myself for the good. I look forward to the days I go on vacation. Counting back days.
A summer classic, we took the raki, opened the door, I set the table, ate mezemizi, I had the tavern. It was good, and what was good was the taste of that anise coming from that raki glass to my lips. What a pleasure it was to merge with your loved ones and those who love you!
Then again I felt like I erased everything in a moment again. I drink well. Sometimes I just want to get drunk. I said you're an Arabesque drunk, once upon a time. Maybe I sometimes don't know. All I know is that these booze heal me even if I'm not sick. Strangely, it is sometimes pouring into the heart of my heart.
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