In my heart, an agony represses, the emptiness and the music that inhabit still in my heart. Are there no reasons for recentes losses, but which the reason of the emptiness that I feel? Why do allow to let to take me for the bossa nova that his thumb exercises on mine? And the life is still my creation; then I still imagine and I react, not only a, but several types of defenses. I smile while I deceive, no my sadness, but the longing of the good hours that we invented together. Every boy, one day will be a man. Happen what to happen, mean what to mean.