Smell the flowers in the trash, as I smell my tears in the tissue dry. Yes, I repeat, if, again and again, to understand, because nostalgia eats away at me, slowly. I understand that sometimes life, like a mad carousel, round and round, suddenly changed, leaving us breathless, without answers. And we will do, no heaven to go to, for some surprises, because I say, children have their own little worlds. We have nothing, perhaps embarrassed eyes of experience. But if you feel it, that is the experience, with surprises that blow up your emotions. IS ALWAYS THE IMAGINATION. OPEN WINDOWS CLOSED, and let in, feelings, emotions, experiences TOTALLY NEW, The night I brought a sour perfume of withered flowers a salty tear, left, stuck in my memory.