Roses in December
You can not go back in time. You can not. This continued to tell her, since she left, he had become so sad and had many questions. Still, James did not want to defeat. We feel every time I had a chance. The last Once was when he had followed the conference of popular science, simplified for all ages, where he had also spoken of the possibility of time travel, according to Einstein's theory. James was the only class to make a smart question. But the answer was not all satisfied.
And yet arrived for Christmas. There was all that talk, like all the other times that he remembered, desires, letters to Baby Jesus or Santa Claus. James wrote again to the Christ Child: Lei had taught him all his friends wrote of high-tech toys, video games, playstation, things that were essentially pastimes. James no. James did not ask for a pastime rather wanted something incredible that no one had ever even heard of. He had asked for a fermatempo. And, since I had begun the difficult relationship with Him
James suspected for a while 'that someone is filtering its letters to the Christ Child. But it was confirmed when he starts talking as if by chance, without opinion, the fact that some strange things, such as the fermatempo, in reality did not exist. And that just could not give to children, although they were very good throughout the year.
But James did not matter. James Lei Or at least she wanted, if he could not get it back, he wanted to see her in person, have in some way a sign of his presence. Because James was sure of: She was still there somewhere. It was not possible that it was gone.
Every time he closed his eyes seemed like a dream, small and petite, with thin hands and shining eyes, beautiful, smiling, as she stood in her garden and cultivated roses. The roses in her delicate hands became more colorful and fragrant flowers that James had ever seen: there were plenty of red, yellow, mottled yellow-orange, white were the angels of the garden because it shines at night, but what he liked most were the ones with a tinge of pink, as that of the soft summer raspberries. He was even willing to eat, and when you did not see was coming dangerously thorns and smell the flowers, as if he wanted to taste them as well, starting with the nose. Every summer spent in the garden was a riot of color and odor, and there was you in particular, with its sweet smell of chocolate and exotic spices, with her special warmth, with her smile that never goes out, at least until he was close to her roses.
why sorry always, as if he hit something sharp on your heart, when they began the first signs of autumn. Always began from the roses. He saw them stiffen, lose their softness and fall, petal after petal. Immediately after the garden was no longer the same. She even smiled as before, it seemed that someone had brought via the light that shone from within. Resisted some bud, even when the autumn sky darkened, and some a bit of a pink corolla 'still appeared less intense on the branches. Until winter comes true, with December and Christmas and branches remained stiff, stiff and empty. The whole garden was empty. And now that she saw him like this since she was gone, it was as if she disappeared again. And he seemed to endure more painful.
They said: you will. Over time. Becomes large and overcome them all. But James knew that was not true. He also deceived him with his false confidence, with its fiction of a peace that James could not exist: it felt sigh of night, when he walked without stopping for the empty rooms, and never slept. James thought that one day would fall to the ground and were no longer able to pretend to be strong, just like that, while pretending to smile at him and he would fall asleep for a whole day.
She always said that working too, which was to rest more. And then He was listening looking into his eyes shining, becoming soft and yielding. But now she was no longer there to tell him to sleep.
As for James, with time not spent anything. At least before Christmas gave him a little 'joy. But now there were only the winter and the garden empty.
But he had not wanted to give up. She knew that, somewhere, was still there. Left miss the idea of \u200b\u200bfermatempo. He knew that you could not turn back had told him that even science professor who knew Einstein. For now, the travel time can not be done. So, it was not necessary to go back. It was enough to make contact. If she was, and she was, she would have heard and would answer. So
arrived on Christmas morning that he had written another letter, even if he had so recommended him. He saw in his eyes more and more lost the idea of \u200b\u200bnot knowing what to give that frightened him. At that very first Christmas without Lei But James did not want any gifts. And her letter was well written in his heart.
It was a cold morning, there was snow, but the garden was still all white for ice. The cold felt sick in the fingers and toes. It seemed that the frost had come right into his bed. He could hear his voice calling from the kitchen, from which came a smell of coffee and freshly baked cakes that looked like.
He did not want to get up, however, going to look at gifts from relatives and friends crowded under the decorated tree, pretending to be happy like the other times he woke up and finally it was Christmas. Staying in bed he turned his head toward the window where he saw the garden, frost white and motionless, dead.
But as it was meant to not just get up, not even for lunch, something unexpected, outside place, amazing, caught his attention. It was right in the middle of the garden. A splash of color that could not be there, in the midst of all that frost. Yet there was. A pink, intense and velvety soft like raspberries in summer.
He rose with a jump and leaned against the window. His nose on the glass could see the garden. The perfect little rose bush bloomed in the middle of the biggest, most beautiful. The mother's favorite rose.
White Garavelli
You can not go back in time. You can not. This continued to tell her, since she left, he had become so sad and had many questions. Still, James did not want to defeat. We feel every time I had a chance. The last Once was when he had followed the conference of popular science, simplified for all ages, where he had also spoken of the possibility of time travel, according to Einstein's theory. James was the only class to make a smart question. But the answer was not all satisfied.
And yet arrived for Christmas. There was all that talk, like all the other times that he remembered, desires, letters to Baby Jesus or Santa Claus. James wrote again to the Christ Child: Lei had taught him all his friends wrote of high-tech toys, video games, playstation, things that were essentially pastimes. James no. James did not ask for a pastime rather wanted something incredible that no one had ever even heard of. He had asked for a fermatempo. And, since I had begun the difficult relationship with Him
James suspected for a while 'that someone is filtering its letters to the Christ Child. But it was confirmed when he starts talking as if by chance, without opinion, the fact that some strange things, such as the fermatempo, in reality did not exist. And that just could not give to children, although they were very good throughout the year.
But James did not matter. James Lei Or at least she wanted, if he could not get it back, he wanted to see her in person, have in some way a sign of his presence. Because James was sure of: She was still there somewhere. It was not possible that it was gone.
Every time he closed his eyes seemed like a dream, small and petite, with thin hands and shining eyes, beautiful, smiling, as she stood in her garden and cultivated roses. The roses in her delicate hands became more colorful and fragrant flowers that James had ever seen: there were plenty of red, yellow, mottled yellow-orange, white were the angels of the garden because it shines at night, but what he liked most were the ones with a tinge of pink, as that of the soft summer raspberries. He was even willing to eat, and when you did not see was coming dangerously thorns and smell the flowers, as if he wanted to taste them as well, starting with the nose. Every summer spent in the garden was a riot of color and odor, and there was you in particular, with its sweet smell of chocolate and exotic spices, with her special warmth, with her smile that never goes out, at least until he was close to her roses.
why sorry always, as if he hit something sharp on your heart, when they began the first signs of autumn. Always began from the roses. He saw them stiffen, lose their softness and fall, petal after petal. Immediately after the garden was no longer the same. She even smiled as before, it seemed that someone had brought via the light that shone from within. Resisted some bud, even when the autumn sky darkened, and some a bit of a pink corolla 'still appeared less intense on the branches. Until winter comes true, with December and Christmas and branches remained stiff, stiff and empty. The whole garden was empty. And now that she saw him like this since she was gone, it was as if she disappeared again. And he seemed to endure more painful.
They said: you will. Over time. Becomes large and overcome them all. But James knew that was not true. He also deceived him with his false confidence, with its fiction of a peace that James could not exist: it felt sigh of night, when he walked without stopping for the empty rooms, and never slept. James thought that one day would fall to the ground and were no longer able to pretend to be strong, just like that, while pretending to smile at him and he would fall asleep for a whole day.
She always said that working too, which was to rest more. And then He was listening looking into his eyes shining, becoming soft and yielding. But now she was no longer there to tell him to sleep.
As for James, with time not spent anything. At least before Christmas gave him a little 'joy. But now there were only the winter and the garden empty.
But he had not wanted to give up. She knew that, somewhere, was still there. Left miss the idea of \u200b\u200bfermatempo. He knew that you could not turn back had told him that even science professor who knew Einstein. For now, the travel time can not be done. So, it was not necessary to go back. It was enough to make contact. If she was, and she was, she would have heard and would answer. So
arrived on Christmas morning that he had written another letter, even if he had so recommended him. He saw in his eyes more and more lost the idea of \u200b\u200bnot knowing what to give that frightened him. At that very first Christmas without Lei But James did not want any gifts. And her letter was well written in his heart.
It was a cold morning, there was snow, but the garden was still all white for ice. The cold felt sick in the fingers and toes. It seemed that the frost had come right into his bed. He could hear his voice calling from the kitchen, from which came a smell of coffee and freshly baked cakes that looked like.
He did not want to get up, however, going to look at gifts from relatives and friends crowded under the decorated tree, pretending to be happy like the other times he woke up and finally it was Christmas. Staying in bed he turned his head toward the window where he saw the garden, frost white and motionless, dead.
But as it was meant to not just get up, not even for lunch, something unexpected, outside place, amazing, caught his attention. It was right in the middle of the garden. A splash of color that could not be there, in the midst of all that frost. Yet there was. A pink, intense and velvety soft like raspberries in summer.
He rose with a jump and leaned against the window. His nose on the glass could see the garden. The perfect little rose bush bloomed in the middle of the biggest, most beautiful. The mother's favorite rose.
White Garavelli
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