sábado, 19 de fevereiro de 2011

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11.26 PM. Hubby's asleep and I'm being carried away by Mallu Magalhães. My neighbours are having their usual fun and I feel free for having dumped facebook and orkut at the same time,  two scumbag boyfriends who never deserved my precious minutes or my respect. So much more time to read, watch breathtaking films and think of what it is that I want, wonder how strange people can be. "The sentimental education" is still calling my name, but there's such good music on that I just feel like appreciating the breeze, trying to make sense of each and every word... I listen to Mallu Magalhães, to Paolo Nutini, and  it makes me gaze at my now and then with the most admiring eyes. My existence hasn't been in vain after all. I stare at Mrs. Arnoux, her eyes look straight back at me. Neighbours are still partying, hubby's still sleeping, breeze's still blowing, music's still playing - I'm the only one in the room who's not the same anymore.

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