Walk between your memories while you forget to smile in the present.
Think you are getting late; that the train in which he was traveling and from which he had to get off is the only one that will pass through his station.
And then he cries. Alone. She and her desire to disappear sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for tears to stop being born in her eyes to die in her hands.
On top of those fucking Hollywood movies do not help.
He sees them and thinks that his script is misspelled. Or maybe the man who plays the lead role in his life has made a mistake in the scene.
I wish you could see that you are the director, little great woman. Then you would be able to start writing your own story as it deserves to be lived.
