All the memories that I have and I own can't be taken away from me. Even when I'm surrounded by clouds of dark smoke and your actions hurt me. You can make me cry and leave me alone but at the end you wont know how much I can enjoy being on my own. Although you should have been there, your absence was substituted by the mysteries of the city. I walk on the streets like you would walk on a museum; I observe people not as such, but as pieces of art, curious objects deserving my attention. There is no need to enter a museum in Paris when you've got all the buildings, the trees and gardens just for you.
Because I was alone I could see it all, I was guided by an invisible hand and a secret voice whispered to my ear to follow the heat of the sun. And so I did.
I've got the sensation of the wind blowing off my hair, and I can remember the fresh grass of that turnaround under my feet. I still fell the sweet pain in my legs and I can't really share it to you. All of it belongs to me, in this day of gloom I'm happy to say that nothing and no one can take those bright moments from me.
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