This Saturday is March 1. Can anyone explain how we got to the third month of the year so fast? I think it is these perceptions linked to the logic directly proportional as I get older time flies. And while there are people who have no problem with that and - rather - are those who ask the time speed, as if it had any connection with the resolution of their problems, I'm upside down, partly because the responsibilities also have grown exponentially and I feel I need a very little, to give such a setback abruptly adulthood leads to the more raw, less funny, bitter, serious and lethargic, where fun is a sign of immaturity and where to file a mean conversation long disquisitions about how well or badly is the work, how are the kids, how will the dividend payments and the like. To mourn aloud.
Maybe that's why, or for that inevitable feeling of running into places unknown, I cling to the days as if no tomorrow (how cliché), but every day you open your eyes I feel has been a week. I have no doubt that much of the blame lies with the bloody routine of modern life: Wake up, eat breakfast, go to work, lunch, work, go home, repeat x 5 ... why weekends are so exploited.
spend minutes I keep remembering the times of childhood when one day, a miserable day it was eternity. And what about a summer one actually came to school with the feeling of reuniting with people they did not see a long, long time. But now, what are two months? Apparently nothing, went in the blink of an eye. Would not it be amazing to go back for a day, waking up early and play for life, go with the legs covered in bruises, tired, dirty, but knowing candidly that he lived an epic adventure of childhood?
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