is damaged wings, remember that poor Icarus!
I wanted to fly too high, against the current, challenging winds of summer, defying the clouds most dangerous for the simple pleasure of flying and challenge ...
But this afternoon ... it is for me only six in the morning! ...
My feathers and I are being repaired ... Reflection ...
Caught between two layers of feathers replacing
I lose all sense of time! ...
My little body to me is more, the wings have become too Heavy ...
am obliged to lie, what damn day!
I hear in my cotton, a little voice telling me back to Italy ...
"Chi va piano, va sano, chi va sano, will lontano ..."
Rispondo: "Oggi sicuro ... Certo!"
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