Something very similar to a goldfinch (or what I imagine to be a goldfinch) is singing on my balcony. In the background, the roar of cars whizzing on the ring. Very romantic.
Oh, and the smell of pie zucchinepancettaemmental.
Romantic.
And I say "welcome back home." I miss only the apron covered with flour and a rolling pin in one hand. But it will be for next time.
my dreams more and more frequently fell into a nervous atmosphere of romance. That is very excited about my dream to move me but hysterical.
dream last-minute mishaps.
Meanwhile, I think more in dreams than in reality. In reality
sfarfalleggio as usual.
Today for example I had a look at the interessantisssssimi master's degree in international economics at a university in London. Come on, it was assumed that going to London I would not hurt. The more I move unless I want to go back to Milan every time.
So be it.
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