The story of a lost dream

Sometimes I imagine myself talking with her. She stays near me, on my right side, looking to an indefinite horizon, smiling on my every word to her. There is no struggle. I try, but I fail to hide a discrete smile that betrays a certain type of happiness. I take slowly her hand into mine, she leaves herself totally lost in my arms and whispers with a secretive voice:

– Where do you think is it?

– Oh, It’s there.

– Do you see it?

– No, but it’s definitely there.

– How can you say?

– I feel it.

– You are a fool. How can you feel it?

– How can’t you?

– What are you talking about?

– What are you talking about?

She laughed sinking deeper into my arms and after a few seconds of silence she whispered with the same secretive voice:

– We will find it, don’t worry… I know it’s there.

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