Life is so ironical that brings us to the glory of true love, then immediately to the darkness of pain and confusion, and finally to the inner trip of self encounter, to the knowledge about our real hopes, ways and needs. And once again, we get ready to ascend to the glory of true love once we enjoy our singularity again. But we will never be the same than before Macchu. We'll be better, wiser, quieter, happier. We will harbor memories of true experiences, full of meaning, full of intensity. We will save the magic in the deeps of our brain's backyard, just to visit them once and again as we get older, remembering those happy days of piscos and llamas, augustos and indian guides, late trains and lost cities in high Andean mountains...
Labels: Querido Diario
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