To love is to forget what could not be and bad I am because I have not wanted. Love is to forget and turn our backs, the ravages of the heart, love is forget the madness of insomnia and say: Ramon has chosen her life, has been very happy. Well love is to understand the behaviors of the other and accept them. Say, well, love is well know that it has done the best and I: I never was yours love It is continuing to fight in the shade and the eastern part of your life. To love is to sleep well at night because he, that guy so handsome you met when you were 25 years, has done what they wanted. To love is to suffer in silence, in his silence, understand that he was happy with me, in my same Chair, would be ever so.

Love is taking steps large light and dark field and open sea, pigeon and horse shadow, and well-being that will come at the death. Eventually, knowing that had travelled, which smiled, multiplied by many, they admired it, occurred in all fields, and that what I want is to forget it, I know that I will do so, for this reason, by him who chose his path. He chose, I was there at the wrong time. I want other steps, other achievements, other horizons that are not in the past, and that’s you. You have to understand it, you have to assimilate it, you have to digest it, you have to applaud it and accept it. Be happy, you were happy, have triumphed, head high but not with me, I suffer I was ruining my life.

But I did it, I malogre it, and now I don’t know that there is. I do not know. I know that I know what I know and walk going by the River, step by step on its shores which are the mine, marching and marchandito and I know that I know nothing.