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she who inspired me Alice and Alzheimer's may your soul rest in peace. For me it

You have left us in your sleep, nobody told you goodbye, but we felt you left, we saw something odd lapping without knowing what it is .. we knew a haze caused by million makeshift barbecue that day ... but no! the mist hid something, this is a start, your departure.

93 years during which you lived a life full of events, changes, 6 children, 12 grandchildren, several departures, also came, then the disease, Alzheimer's you got caught, and this is how you started to call your mother, part too, is a long long time.

"Where are you my mother, I do not know what to do?" is that you forgot how to cook your meals ptits good, you're lost when you t'évadais from home several times, you forgot your ptits children, and I would sometimes play at that you and taste your sweetness.

You wonder every time I was, I answered that my father was the friend of your son gone too, and you answered with the same response, even for several years, but you do not like him, and it made me smile every time.

You're gone, your expected departure is bitter, very bitter, we thought that with the lucidity thee back this week, you'll dare to confront the destructive memories, Alzheimer's, do you also remember everything we had to do the day of Eid, you jump at every step and you will manifest yourself to us to come to your bedside, you dared even some ironic replicas sent to your little girl, "no you're not my girl you, you are black skin, all my children are white as snow me!" And unfortunately, nobody has inherited the color of your eyes azure, your looks, your outspoken ... I smiled on hearing your comments and prickly I kissed your forehead as I liked to to not knowing what would be the kiss last kiss that I give you.

Farewell wassla loved so much as call you a lil piece of very strong woman, who lived a century and what a century but this disease traitor, has Alzheimer's caught up to make it back, then back off and give way to a monster even more cruel, even harder than the disease, which was washed away and unfortunately nobody can resist him.

Your departure is not sad, it is very light, you got it buried this evening, the day of your death, and it is a page that closes behind a stage in life, you left sad but not break the habit, undresses this corner we thought eternal farewell of bitter so bitter, farewell .. we loved you well .. soon ..

her who I was inspired Alice and Alzheimer's, I miss you already, your place is really irreplaceable, may your soul rest in peace.

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My Turn, turn, turn ...

Nobody knows. How to watch a sunset, I thought, if our eyes can not see beyond? Why bury the rubble of lives by impersonal when we exist?

Nobody knows. Blessed are those who claim it. Life is not eternal, and drinks her morning opaque transparency at all times, weaving the thread of gold and rust, strong and brittle upon which we roam. The mountains wring the land crumples and my inland seas, they, empty. I dreamed the other time a new rose garden in the underworld, she indulged them, poor thing. A journey to the center of the Earth is therefore no reason to have intercourse that way tonight as I binds me to the chair of setbacks lost.

Nobody knows. Remember, reminds me that I do not know, I know only too knew nothing. Futures tumultuous pasts inert, this fixed, the interlude in my room, the row of the theater, the bend of your projects. What did you for? I would simply tell you that the surprise does not surprise me since I took over this ephemeral freedom. For the first time I whipped the reins with the grip of a rebel, I picked up the illusion on my body said, "so I shocked. Considering that this story is no longer realize that I will become again a slave, even if in your heart, you must remain aware that my servitude will end.

Nobody Knows But I Do. How to quit the yoke of another? Nobody knows but me ... The culmination of many years to endure the capricious scars of my being told me to escape to freedom eternal. And the volcano rumbles quietly flowing magma his carmine, moorland plateaus and greenery of a revival, my ocean evolve into the direction of a bed a virgin, and the clouds will be slashed while dawn to dusk successor, enlighten me with human dignity. I see hope in this tunnel, that light in the dark as j'occulte.

Journal , Sebastian Asran Zala Charles

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Fatma, Fatma is us, Fatma is in every one of you were talking about other

I sent to you before when you decided to stop writing and I asked for the return of what a beautiful pen yours. the irony is that just a year later, I still seek your return, not because you decided to leave but because we have imposed your departure!
In my other post I took the words you write:

"We are writing to succeed to breathe air without dioxide places, names, gestures, nicks and people we pursue in the darkness of solitude ... ""

That would be the point of writing if we were tied up hands, if we dictate what others should read it if it is expressed only behind borders, fences, if there is any time to question if the ink is cursed, so resonates in our heads banned??

Add to breathe and we want to stop you breathing, living.



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