Kates Playground New Galeries 2010

... just write a closed box

I write about that house more distant than that, perhaps for the distance, the more silent.

I write about the younger the age of the guests, because latest in "home Amahoro.

I write about that house, that of Bare, where we spent Christmas Eve, and the last day of the year. This year so rich in emotions and gifts.

write to our arrival. Bedo, Marcia, and I Damascene. I write the screams of children in our house get out. Of joy and emotion of their dark eyes shining in the night. Like stars.

I write here of our missing for three weeks and feel that 21 days is an eternity.

write dell'inzoga spacciatami for juice, which is shared with the larger share going to the festival. A party so beautiful you'd never end.

write the diversity of the three leaders and their gifts are so essential in this family.

I write now of going to the fields. The beauty of sharing the work. The sensitivity of those who always does this work, in explaining how to do. In asking to rest.

write to rediscover the greatness that is Mother Earth. In his desire to accept gifts without hurting her.

I write lots of football, in flip-flops between the stones. Among the laughter of children. Among the passers-by who cut their own paths through our yard.

write the feet and wash clothes in the yard, along with water from heaven, with water tank.

write labors not understand what happens at home Italy, interrogated about what to do.

I write about a phone call from two friends, fellow leaders of the journey. Write about the signs of God

I write of my leave at the end of the meal, the table "Great", to slip into one of the children. The Big House. The soul of the house. I write with their laughter, the jokes, the hugs, the looks. Inventing speeches kinjarwanda to keep them entertained.

I write about many teachers of drumming. Giving you the charge even if you try again, after hours of testing, remains to be less "rhythm" of the earth.

write the magic of candlelight vespers. Chills through you while clapping during a song to the Lord, hear your name. I feel the Lord is thanked for the gift of you. I write about nature that is, At that point, fall back and to begin to dance. Tu.Come Even though I had always done.

I write of love.

which again is in my hands. Free.

that is also good in your hands

2011

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