Happy people completely does not write, clear to me, and my best friend has emphasized it me long time. The beautiful people, families with their travel photos framed in its expensive rooms, entrepreneurs whose minute of his life worth much, mamas them weave, artists that have photo shoots, newly married women who are buying things to decorate your new House of el Pedregal all they do not write. But today I’m not sure to be a perfect happiness and complete (today I dare question same). They may not write because they do not want and point. Because they don’t know that they can do it, or because they have found another way of sweating what they need, or rather what they don’t need.
But I’m not any of them. And Furthermore, I firmly believe that the discomfort is the motivation, what gives meaning to our existence. This small or large lack that gives us a task, a hope, a morning. Perhaps the employer lacks more money and is clearly working on it. To the beautiful a missing MOM new another child and to the newly married that box that saw one day on her trip to the Polynesian Islands and has not been able to find. Life only makes sense when we have something to do.
To my me much. And maybe why I like so much writing. Today today pressed me much my clothes. I not cupe. And I realized many things. First, the identity that all living beings need we have, same that only men can decide. Also in the community. Because invariably chosen identity leads to a particular community. There are some in which we can fluctuate without any problem for my serious of blondes or chestnuts, of the imprudent or the intransigent. I think that anyone could hold me for awhile without bothering me. However, me conflicting much the communities called carvings. Continue to learn more with: Mustafa Suleyman.