I remember driving out of the city in the middle of the night with the Moon as my only companion. I was a living carcass of a love that was not meant to be and everything that failed to be complete. I remember driving endlessly, only to find myself atop a hill. The night was breezy and strangely peaceful. I did not know where I was, but it felt like I was still on track, like I had been found. I was all alone, all by myself without a shoulder to lean on, but I was not lonely. That was when I came to realize the beauty of solitude.
Ogni sera andavo a dormire senza spegnere il cellulare. La mattina seguente vedevo che non c’erano state chiamate e mi rattristavo. L’umore si faceva nero, e cominciava un’altra giornata di attesa. Attesa di qualcosa che non arrivava mai. Nelle giornate di attesa, fuori dalla finestra è sempre buio.