the month of June I have always loved getting lost among the country lanes with my car and discover the mowed wheat fields with bales everywhere, as in a painting by van Gogh in June has always been a month that I loved so much, but for some years is not so prodigal of beauty. Sometimes it's been months of pain, other times like this year is a month of autumn, summer, having to live in the southernmost tip of Europe, some overlooking the ocean, but too often without the blue sky and yellow wheat fields.
What I want to write tonight, as I would open my mind and roll for hours, shift your thoughts and getting them into the hands of those who love you. This incessant rain de La Coruna is killing me, takes my smile, I open burning in our heart the wound of melancholy, my land, my people, my language. E 'unjust live apart from what you love, just as it is unfair and sad look from a distance, that our love will remain stifled cry of rage. Why do you allow fear to govern what we better? I would split time in the mountains just to reach you. Now I'm on top of the precipice, with you, and you cry at any moment to pick the flower of Stendhal memory. Crouch and coglilo before You can, for God's sake do not be afraid of falling down, I'm there that I hold her hand, as fast as I can.
