galore hearts invaded Beirut and everything is colored red.
red hearts plastered on shop windows, on walls, floors. Red hearts in the shops, the streets, in restaurants. Balloons and heart-shaped pillows. Red hearts on the cups, the holders, on the slippers, pajamas on, on the underpants, on towels, on the boxes. Thousands of gadgets everywhere. Thousands of idiotic gadgets everywhere.
idiotic, but with something special. Repositories of an extraordinary power. Inside, if you so wish, you can find a sprinkling of fairy dust. Yes, that's what it takes to fly with Peter Pan in search of the island is not there. Then, close your eyes and you will end with the old pink slippers on your feet, the hearts in the circle and the diary. Once again, you'll be a dancer with the tutu, the shy dreamer, given the small and big ambitions, the tomboy who loves to run and scream, the rebel who loves transgression always. The princess of the house, hugging, kissing and cuddled. You will, for ever and ever, the little girl with a myriad of dreams in my head, so only honey in the heart and happiness to hearts all around.
See, just a little 'color and some puppet to reopen the box of emotions and memories. When was your dad to fill all those little hearts.
And so, I enjoy the moment. Every year, when my great fire me find the bed covered with colored packages unwrapped, I pull out the pink shoes, wearing the oval to the hearts and I leave for my trip.
not alone though. Now we go there in two.
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