17 fevereiro 2008


I don't know absolutely what I want. I only know mother, that I'm not gonna get it staying here. I want to go to England mum, every day to wake up in my apartment with privileged sight for big ben, to always leave for work, passing to starbucks of the streets, to catch every day the subway to cross the city, and when I'll be on good mood venture myself in London's traffic or admire the streets of the city aboard on a red bus. still I do not have telephone mother, but chil, I will always phone you on one of the telephonic cabins of the city. I will always enjoy the pleasant days and the maximum decreases. On the weekends I will go until hyde or green Park for a picnic with my friends. when I receive my wage I will go to venture myself in oxford street or even though in camden. the afternoon ends will be pretty, seen from the edges of sift it or on board a cabin of london eye. my days will be busy mother, but I always will order postcards for you.

That's what I want mother. I'm sorry, but I'll fight for it. Love you

16 fevereiro 2008

You know, the worst thing for me, is seeing you sad, and not being able to help you, its just ridiculous. I feel like useless. I feel like I'm not the perfect friend that you deserves. So I'm here, to ask for your apologize. For not being there when you need me, for not being useful always, and not being so helpfully lately. And I'm here searching for words to tell you exactaly what you want to here, but I just can't. I just, don't have a clue what to say. Besides I'm Sorry.