Certain pains do not pass: a certain pains you get used to, and sometimes even get used enough. Forgive me, mother, for these tears, and forgive me, Mom, if your smiles and your recommendations have not prevented me this sadness is that today I feel more strongly the need to hug you and, instead, I can stay here only dream about.
Where will you now, Mom? And what are you thinking? Time will not erase your memory, rather it will revive the colors: I will be here to think of, dream of, imagine. There will not be anything more beautiful than embrace, if only briefly, your eternal life.
And remember, I'll be there. I'll be up in the air, if I want to speak to put yourself on the one hand, close your eyes and look for me. We talk together. But not in the language of words but those of silence.
