My dear Erato,
in little more than an hour will go to the movies in the company of some friends to see what a clear mind would call the film more obvious, sickly sweet, weepy, and perhaps even a bit 'pathetic: the typical love story can not hampered by everyone and everything, the typical lovers who prefer to be covered by the cold dark earth so as not to be torn from each other and a coal hot anxious and yet the typical heartbreaking final. Well that would be my opinion and my opinion so hard if I myself was involved in a whirlwind of feelings inverosibilmente like, if I myself transforms the actors' faces with other faces, other attitudes more well known. However, the substantial difference is that my burning passion is hopelessly one-sided, silent and invisible and therefore destined to remain so: my thoughts and my sighs, my words and my tremors not cheer anyone, scatter light and insubstantial as when the wind stirs the bare branches of Boreas crown skeletal stripping away the last leaves withered from the cold.
But everything changes sooner or later Zefiro caress those shining, green hair again ... and then it will be a riot of colors ...
Sincerely yours, Saturnia
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