open my eyes and two o'clock.
is the feast of the republic, but I notice when I turn on the television, accidentally pressing the button 3 on which are giving the TG region. Maroni celebrated in Varese rather than in Rome. so be it.
wake up I looked at my room, the piles of folded clothes in summer a little 'accident on the boxes that they have locked up all winter, the chair of hidden things and try not made or used and not stored. it's a bit 'cold tonight at 5 there was no time to look like pajamas or something that would make the place, but the window was open.
called the throat, I headed to the fridge thinking about the previous evening and drink sparkling water (Now no bubbles). I think if some blame for the 'hate last night, but I do not think so. just do not know how to always run my presence in a place with more people.
and now? you should eat. the rice salad is gone from the fridge and was the only thing I could take and eat, the rest in its preparation distract me at the thought of being swallowed.
fast back to the first thought that I made. 'Clara, if I could choose how to make your room would be like?' Good question. I do not think, but I can not even say how I would have liked. always has the air of having to be placed, finished, completed. as if the room of a house of students.
I went away in a white room and landed in a room ... white.
do not have a headboard. if we lay down and I looked straight at me, I see myself in a door / wardrobe mirror: I read, I do something to your computer, dozing, talking (a little) on the phone. or I drive.
and today?
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