Ok, there's the moon again. And here i am writing about it... again.
Can't help it. Everytime she is full, I fall in love. ... uh... not sure what I fall in love with though.
This time it is not orange - it is silver, bright shiny silver.
Oh, how I miss watching the moon from my eighteenth floor window, with grandma and my brother Leo. The world looks so perfect at night, from the 18th floor, at the moonlight, with the people you love, and the smell of bean soup coming from the kitchen...
Sometimes I just want to go home.
"Não há , ó, gente, oh não, luar como esse do sertão."
