Scattered Pieces or Remembrance of What I Felt Today,

Recently I've been toying with the idea that I'd became again the promising, idealistic, romantic and wild young man I used to be. Maybe I'm starting to notice that I don't have much time left before joining the dull, wrinkling adult world with no way return. That's what I was during my last years at school and my fisrt days at the college. In some way, I was wishing to go back to my teen years. Last year I dropped all. The breakdown I had was so strong that I nearly missed one whole year. Almost no recorded worthy literary tries are to be found dating from those months. . I leaped over that year without noticing and now I face this year with the idea of doing more thing than ever, though I have lesser than than before. I tend to get stressed easily and, though I am prone to join every kind of activity, I easily get overhelmed by all the tasks I'm ionvolved. And since I'm in this new home, I can't control my time as I used. I'm sot of missed the notion of time. For instance, I knew how much time did everything take -I'd know that in a certain lapse of time I could this, this and this-. The house was smaller too and I didn't waste so much time going to one end to the other end and, of course, I lived closer to my places of interest. It's hard to get used to this new situation. Some nights i wake in the darkness, believing I'm still in my old, cozy home -mainly when I sleep on the smaller bed- and it takes me a while to realize where I am. Then I feel I regret having moved. I don't mean I dislike this house -it's rather nice- but it occurs to be a bit disappointing in some ways. You think your live is going to improve a lot but it doesn't. In fact you miss some things. I sometimes wish I were my house. Or I least, that I could keep it. The week after we came here, I used to went there often, to bid a last farewell. Since my father gave the keys back, I broke once into the house, at night -some kind of night incursion- The house won't be habited and will remain untouched at least until next month. Prior to that stupid greenhorn come and push over some walls, I like to see it with the eyes of my face before it's to late and I could see only it with the eyes of my mind. I smell and press my face against the battered, splintered wooden floor and I feel the urge of kissing the tiles of the kitchen's wall. And I gaze fot the last time out of the old-fashioned iron balcony to the charming stone monastery and the massive, lace-like cathedral.

Good night, hope to see you soon. I'm leavng for a party with a German blondin.