Words For A Super Bowl Invitation

The first love .................


In the solitude of the night, alone with myself, sitting on my chair in the living room, and I think, I I always think. My thoughts are many and those who will not let me rest, follow each other tremendously and never stop. The past is my most common sweet torment. If I were to compare my head to a container, I could only think of a huge silos, one of those huge, gigantic and unaccountable. I am an incurable romantic and if I make a compliment, despite my age, I still and always flattering. If
digging deeply into my memory, among other things that pop up, I can even remember my first "big love." I was a little girl and I liked being with a very nice kid named Alberto, was the son of a general request for accommodation in Milan and came to Messina. His house had a huge gate that looked out on the highway to go to reach my house. I looked through the bars forever, until one day attacked button. We became great friends, but I always on both sides of him beyond the big gate, our great love, was consumed, as well! Divided by a gate. We spent hours and hours to tell the secrets of our innocent children. Then ironically, his father was transferred and were never more to Messina. How much pain he felt my tender heart of a child, for the first time they passed the gate, I always had the feeling, to see him any minute ride into the avenue that ran through his garden, but this never happened. Slowly I forgot it, also because his place in my heart was replaced by Salvatore, said Turi, attended the same school but not the same class, in my eyes he was fine, but the opposite of Alberto, educated and refined, Turi was a brat gay and unconventional. His father ran a tavern in the neighborhood, it was through him that I saw for the first time the TV, then it was in black and white. How I loved him! Then the hard destiny once again, he tested my (great loving heart) and this time, I was with my family to leave Sicily for ever, Lombardia destination, leaving them in that tavern between dark barrels, glasses and stinking smell of wine, my heart and above all my love, which soon, I remembered not even the face. Power of feeling and passion ................