November 2010
“The first symptom of love in a young man is shyness; the first symptom in a...”
– Victor Hugo
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Postcards From Italy
The times we had Oh, when the wind would blow with rain and snow Were not all bad We put our feet just where they had, had to go Never to go The shattered soul Following close but nearly twice as slow In my good times There were always golden rocks to throw at those who admit defeat too late Those were our times, those were our times And I will love to see that day That day is mine ...
