The history of my steps.

Her blood beats in the heart, because she is the eternal owner of each heartbeat which makes you want to be running through her beautiful body, brunette of sublime curls that through each root bathes you with kisses.

Here comes the madman who likes to walk among the madness of his green love, his madness is contagious, because it is that wind of which he writes a doodle, watch out! say the old ones from his armchair, while the madness walks on his steed fighting battles of love, another love that is battle of another color, is the white of that dove that goes free, are other letters made to pieces by the madman, because they want to dream the letters, they are the child that free game, you are a child if you dream.

The distance in spite of seeming to be his enemy, is his best confidant, because it impels him to go after that dream of which he speaks, to walk the crusade of the steps to go until the horizon that always calls him and once there he wants to go beyond where his love kisses him in the afternoons of sun on his kisses.

In that we find ourselves in another way, one that takes us to a house, but that is already another story, for today have finished speaking my steps, I hope the next and your passes are mine, and so you can dream as a child.

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Camera : Panasonic lumix DMC-FZ50. Lens: Leica 1:2.8-3.7/7.4-88.8. Location: Villa de Cura.
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