...at these mornings i wait for you looking at the stars*
And I do not stop of guessing, of drawing a line that separates the sky from the sea. Of drawing a line that separates the imaginary of the real. Of believing that, here and know, reality is what I think. And I do not want to stop of drawing finite horizons down the stars. And maybe, just now, I would like to be like you, I could be like you!
I do not want to stop of counting stars, of searching something in the horizon. And it is just that, when I will achieve to draw a line that could separate the uncertain of the reality, when you could listen to the song of the waves and see the moon sleeping with open eyes, then... then maybe you can also come. Or maybe could be that, then, you will come back.