Trawler Across The Atlantic

Minchia, quaranta... :-s

Eh, yes.


A new note on my blog ...


It's easy to say "now I write a new note."


'm forty. What else is there to say?

• Forty times I have said "Happy Birthday to TEEE! And the cake to meee!" thinking about the cake that much more good wishes for myself.

• Forty times I look in the mirror and say 'Okay', is a year older, but not that much has changed, come on. ", Only to open a photo album and make any" Eeeeekkkk! But was I? "

• Forty times I ask" What do you want to present? " and I explain that I do not want gifts, I want people, because they are not stupid enough to wait for my birthday or Christmas for me (or let me do) a gift.

• Forty times I say "This is the right time to be able to do this and that and then ... Yes, 'sti cocks."

The day of your birthday, after all, is like the New Year: objectively, does not weigh on your time more than any other day of your life, but psychologically it's a different story.

The day of your birthday brings with it - how to say - a check mark, something that says "Done!" and makes a small "V", a quotation mark next to an entry in a hypothetical list of events in your life.

What then of forty years, brings a virgolettone big way. The check of "Done!" you do not put it next to the year number 39, but to an entire phase of your life, its animaccia.

Let's face it: if you can afford to fool yourself that you are young for all thirty, even though in reality they're no longer with the forty necessarily know that you've closed with that phase. Point. :-)

Not that one is not fun anymore, God forbid!
What's fun is knowing how to work for the Italian Constitution: a right and duty of everyone, except that then there are those who do not succeed, and yet those who do not want.

But I want to do.

Why is also true that I am a forty, but they are also one who takes life with passion, even when - as I've not too long ago - I fell in some tile head heavier than usual.

I am one who knows how to look on, without having to hide the rubble of its past under the carpet.

I am one who bears a grudge and not have any significant projects to be carried out without any desire to look back.

I get up every day, go out to work on a sunny morning (yes, sometimes it happens in London) and find yourself thinking, "thank you".

For as long as forty or forty, the world will still be a nice place to live.

Regards,

(Rio)