MinjaLem

  Dancing under the Mexican sky.  I promised my mom I would do so. I would do it together. Drinking margaritas, being by the water, looking at the lights, imagining our whole world spinning around. Lying on beach beds, listening to that sound of water, watching the Mexican, blue sky, not being anywhere else. Sandy beach, warm summer, dancing along the beach, you and I. 'Are you with me' like in that song. Eating enchiladas, under the Mexican sky. Being under the Mexican sky. Just being with you. Holding your hands, going along, and wondering where it will take us. You're always in my mind, forever and always. You are my mom.

 In Italy, I was dancing to this music. It's an African type of music. It awakens me in this drastical way, as if I was sleeping. Which I am. I am constantly sleeping in this time, this era of problems and wars. I don't like wars. I am worried. I am worried sick and that gets me off my track. Off my own problems. I like to be driven by my own things, creativeness, things I do, and what I don't do. It reminds me of what I want to do. Because it's not the end. We'll show those people what we are, and how people are supposed to work, and do things, and not die for someone else. Music helps me stay alive, be living, get me through this way of work, life, and other family stuff. Without music, there is no smile.

 Green soup was particularly to write about. It was to die for, so spicy and killing you instantly. What did I do to deserve it? Don't answer that. Many people would agree that I deserve to die. Why? Because I like the green soup. Everyone does. This one was to die for. Killing in your throat, stomach, to die for, bread, sauce and pasta with beef around it. Doesn't help. I will show you a picture of it. You think it's cute, but wait until it kills you. In the end, we didn't even finish it. Almost to die for. It's not like that piece of cake.