and those long silences. this remote village in the Apennines and the hills that we lost the road and that there was still the navigator to guide you in life crises. and your smiles and flavors and moods of wet asphalt. A4 angry trucks and other trucks that surpass the curve of Bergamo which is becoming slowly. the romantic ballads of the romantic How High and the flavor of the province and the working class suburb of Milan, which has little romantic. and sang in the car as if we were to the arena as if we were playing. and all those hugs and kisses that I gave you 'cause you could not. and those tears of joy that I hid with his arm as we walked back. that was to say I'm sorry that had lasted so 'little and which' was so 'nice to lose count of the hours spent together. and 'really know that home for me. perfumes and beauty and new life. for me. I love you.
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