Unresolved pain. Nostalgia. Fire. Vivid dreams at night. Immense love. I read the other day something an old friend once told me. Go back to what you were good at when you were a child. That's where your natural talent is. I go back, and so many things come up. So many interests. Infinite curiosity. I loved words when I was a child. But I also loved animals and nature. I also loved music and poetry. The beach made me go without sleep. I also loved to dance. I remember attracting people's comments while dancing at parties. Not because I was good but because I did my own thing. I also liked cooking and baking from an early age. Books were also my private world. But who am I now, forty years later? I listen to Riccardo Cocciante, and my heart fills with raw emotion. How can someone be so good and write the most beautiful songs? I need to understand Italian better, but what I know and feel with his songs is beyond anything material. The power of art has to move us. That streng
Where's the restroom? (Big sign says: RESTROOMS) What time is it? (There are at least 10 clocks on the walls) How do I print? (How about using the actual printer?) How do I check my e-mail? (Have you seen a computer before?) Where are you from? (Irrelevant) Where are the books in Spanish? (How about where it says INTERNATIONAL?) Are you cold? (Why would I be wearing a sweater, a scarf or layers if I weren't cold?) May I use your phone? Can I borrow a pen? Can you give some sheets of paper? (The place where I work is not an Office Depot of sorts). How do I print? (And the person is looking at the copy machine...)
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