It 's a beautiful prison, the world. Shakespeare.
People pass by me. None of them are free . None.
But at least their is a beautiful prison. Not like mine, with encrusted walls and rusted bars that only hint at a landscape full of holes.
I want to go in the prison. I do not want to destroy or dominate, only live. We wanted to twenty years, I will go from here .
and return to prison for that wonderful out there, where you risk losing everything and everyone at any time, but at least for a moment you think they are there , which are with you, and is for them that now you think that someone is waiting for you .
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