Sunday, 1 June 2014


 Flyaway brunette hair, which has a tendency to remain untidy, almost messy, despite my fruitless trims and attempts to give it body.

Tanned complexion from the long hours spent outdoors . Small forehead in which some fine lines are starting to be  drawn  tenuously:  lines that are nothing  but emotions lived throughout the years , expressions of hilarious moments,  sadness or uncertainties about life itself.

  Big , dark eyes framed by thick eyelashes, although shorter  than I would like to , eyes particularly prone to show tiredness from living against my body clock .
My face used to be round with chubby cheeks , which  have sharpened over the years,    leaving any trace of my childhood behind . The sun and the sea have flecked my nose and cheeks with freckles .

When I look at myself in the mirror, my reflection sometimes seems to show another woman dwelling in my own skin , shier, quieter, happier and sometimes less confident than myself .
Living in my skin , there is someone whose mood and ideas are sometimes a bit unstable , who finds inspiration from stormy writers although she loves swinging social life , who is  grumpy and impatient  maybe a bit selfish when things come out wrong and troubles crop out  ,because  at the end of the day, when time and dreams slip away  I consider acceptable to be a bit cowardly  , even commit small misdemeanors  if ,with that , you can be moderately  happy .

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