Lay roots, lay roots. I don't like the place where I am leaving, this boring flat city where Romeo & Juliet and the Arena seems to be the only attractive one can enjoy (for a couple days). Yet, I feel the urge to build some kind of bound. Maybe I am gonna buy a house (I earn a good amount of money now but buying an house in Italy is still a terrible, bloodsucking deed).
Apart from that, I look at myself in the mirror just to develop that in two years I aged like if ten passed away: a receding hairline, a little stomach, not to mention the increased need of sleep.
There's nothing /tragic/ in my life now, there are also a number of good things. So? So? What's wrong? Many many many little things - sum them up and feel an immense sense of oppression.
At times like this, I'd like to be 15 again, sitting at my AMD 386 40 Mhz in the beginning of the Roman Summer, coding my first 320*240 graphic routines eating some coffee cake slices.
Shit :)
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