The flowers I confess that it was sad when my grandson arrived and he delivered the beautiful harvested flowers to me of a garden for which he passed. It was not a habit, surprised until me, agitated it placed them in the vase with water. They were as much, diverse, colorful, perfumosas. My day passed has led, my house shone and I interacted myself with each part with that he encircled me there. The night arrived, delayed.
In my routine I prepared a tea. Alone it heard the sound of the clock, and I foresaw the cuckoo to sound to the 6 hours. Absorbed in my thoughts, I scared when hearing the telephone. Not telephone taste, I do not feel myself to the will with it. Against taste I take care of it. I heard intent.
I held myself not to fall. Everything in me withered, lost the color smells, it. If you have additional questions, you may want to visit Glenn Dubin. In the emptiness of the vase, flowers in the hands I got ready and I left. It finishes to die one of the best parts of my life.