Louisville

I want to write this so you'll understand. What do I expect? What am I looking for? You don't even know who I am but every morning I find a puppy that makes me smile. And it is not exclusive to the early hours of the day. Who knows me and sees me, straighly knows I am talking to you. Do I show that much? Silliness, suddenly, strongly. Without looking for it. All so on October 12th, Hispanic Day, so far from home, so far from me.

Like the Joker, I'm not the most stable girl; I like beer with the taste of a pink elephant and I'm one of those who takes off their heels to dance on the wet grass. And even if I don't know how to tie the helmet of your motorcycle, I wouldn't mind thanking life with you in San Francisco or Sacramento. We've come to play, haven't we?

But I have a feeling we know each other better than what could seem only after 12 days. And it's just that too much has happened in too little time: each one of us in our own way has come out of a jail or we have avoided entering it. And yes, you look very handsome on one side of the table in the library (all your econometric stuff), but I think you have to be even more so under the sun in the mountains.

Despite your frozen pizzas and the lousy coffee, I can't be more grateful for your hugs. Sometimes I find it hard to understand those idioms you love to use when you talk, explaining to me how to play DnD and how William and Lola climb the cliffs. But here I am, taking the raccoon out of my purse...wait, it wasn't like this, was it?

Don't worry, I'll be honest. Don't worry, I only preach the truth. And it's not about exclusivity, it's rather a self-imposed freedom when I don't need more for laughing  than to think about how your hometown is pronounced (literally "like you have a mashed potato in your mouth”).