Sunday night ,
My beloved Tes , (Tes is a character )
I would give everything so i can be near you right now , that right time , so to hold you the hand to look at your face to hear again your voice . How is it ever possible the feeling of the Touch and you understand with the vision with ears -
So sensory organs and visual nerves and vibrations that make our acoustic drum beat and all of them so alive, to be substituted by words; But we've had them before and we can use words as a channel to communicate, remember? It was then that I was in the middle of school and we are now forced to replace our games and the laughs and the secret utterances we made in silent voices to one another in correspondence. I can no longer remember what I was saying to you In the first letter I only remember that I wrote it on the back of the pieces of a puzzled puzzle, so that I could escape from the indiscreet look of the maid .
But I remember word for word the answer you sent at the time was not seven years old in the nostalgia for our home fragmentary letter as I still remember that your writing was invisible until the moment I thought to hold over the paper a lit candle ever since humanity and courtesy have for me the smell of lemon .
The journalists will surely revel in this little story and would present me as a kind of lemonade detectives from my childhood years ago They would say a lot of tears and how tied our sisters were since then you know out of your apartment now with all of them their cameramen sound engineers and synergies .
Yes I know it was somewhat misplaced as a remark but how else to tell you I honestly I'm not sure that you would have faced the fact that you became somehow a celebrity but I suspect you would find them rather comical hilarious joke but also completely strangely unrealistic I would say As far as I'm concerned, I find it only aloft and unreal, but not funny either . But we have never common sense of joke ,isn't it ?
Out there I recognize a reporter working on a satellite channel I was used to seeing him flat on a screen in my empty apartment in New York now seeing him three-dimensional with flesh and bones standing on the 7th street and having my gaze peered over me through your underground window my fingers are looking for unconscious remote control to close the screen and DISAPPEAR the image , but instantly i relieve consciousness and pull the curtains.
But they are even worse now never before they could see their strong lights take with their unpleasant shimmering the curtains the terrible noise they make through the walls and shutters their presence looks like a machine that could penetrate your bedroom flattening everything in the passage is not to wonder who the whole world puts with the journalists If this goes on for a while i claim i will die from suffocation .
The next tremendous part is coming in a while .
Please i want to inform you that my English is not very good .😂 Let me know in the comments if you like my story !!😊
