From the first day I ran in haste to Rome.
Towards a new future, a new possibility, the stairs of Arts from the steps of magnitude different from each other. Towards a lesson, a place in the classroom, a place to land when the packed courtroom would not let other possibilities, to the coffee machine, for each class with new people, never seen before. Each call was a race, and if I look I'd probably back everything at a slower pace, enjoying most of those hours of criticism and literature, perhaps I would look in a different way each course, trying to see if the artistic and literary history of my country there really is always a thread of "baroque black ".
Today, I open the Word all day about my thoughts, now that accumulation conflicting news and I wonder how do I become a good literary critic.
Will it ever be possible to have all the knowledge which, refers to the bibliography of a book on poetry and painting? Mamma taste as this thirst for knowledge. Over me in this evening of June while outside Rome sweats.
The guys upstairs celebrate and not think, perhaps, that in them is that baroque black. I'm still that 23 year old girl who has a long way in front and who writes a post like a messaggino be sent to all the friends I rubrica.Sono, the same as the last post and this post is a more informal and less literary . Now that literature becomes a field of view and I put to the test by entering some semicolons in my writing from the hearing care professional, semi-colons that I hate them because they feel old. The world does not have moments of indecision, we are now or dots or commas.
I've always believed this is so but now, I learn from the street who has come a long way.
I stop at a point of mind that is not the point but not comma.
I semicolon!
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