I'll explain how things are. I have some photos on this desk for too long. They are placed in an album made with a folded sheet of paper. Are the result of an afternoon around Catania, tell the places that have represented, if only for a few minutes, something that is left inside. I have a scarf, or rather I had it. It 'appeared in my house, out of nowhere. And she was telling something, a period that seems light years away but that was part of me, of my life. He was part of a choice of a power of courage, perhaps unwise, but that was taken. I do not know if it is located next to the photos of those memories. But she is also in me. And 'inside of me as a memory of a memory. A bit convoluted but I think it's clear. I have saved on the memory of my poor phone. Not many, but I have. Tell of past years, to reappear moments forgotten that faded more and more each time I reread certain sentences. Of people who now do not feel. I have relationships that do not exist. Friendships built, that stand up like straws without glass. And I'm really tired to pretend that the glass there is. The truth is that I have rarely been able to say goodbye. Why did I leave at each step a part of me. And I will not say goodbye to myself. At least I did not want. Because now I will. I will say goodbye to many links because they do not deserve my efforts, my attention. For some I will not be a face and a few words. I'll be what I never was. Why do I give up ... but not anymore.