The stories.

A lot of stories float around the world. Who would count them? Who could tell them all?


There are some about fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters who wait for their loved ones on airports, bus stations to pick them up and sit down together at the Christmas Eve table.




There is one about a girl who torn herself into two worlds…into two countries, maybe more.. who caries her baggage every 4 or 6 weeks to the airport and wants pretty much be in two places at once. Who sees the same guy on the plane every time she flies back home.



There is a girl who is being herself with the one from the plane and they do together it for a couple of years by now.




There is one about those buds who once sailed together and they sailed once or twice more.




There is also one about the love. Because it should stay forever.





There is a girl who’s being asked if she comes back? Who changes a film in her camera and takes a picture which I may never see.





At last, there is one about a city where smog is big as hell. Where all those stories meet together and makes a whole.





And all those stories continue.





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