We know that in Seville the rain is wonderful ...
nostáliga I can not help myself, what will This holy water reminds me of other times, especially those of my childhood, when he played to get into the pools after leaving school. I came home soaked and received the loving care of my mother.
I took off my wet clothes and put on pajamas, warm ... with the smell of her, my home, my home. And then I spent the afternoon, a refugee in my castle like a fairy princess ... or sitting on the kitchen counter, listening to the stories my mother told me while making dinner.
I've got memories of past loves, kisses, caresses, of emotions where rain was present, as if to witness and protagonist of the stories.
I love, I love to sleep in his arullo, and look through my window while I work, feel a moment in my face ... smell of damp earth.
May stay few more days.
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