A thing I have wondered this morning, while I was quarreling with the wind that kept on disarranging me the hair.Will we return, it is not true?Will we return to speak of all the others, not to speak of us and to have to define us in a some way that doesn't define at all us? Will we return to laugh up to forget us of it the motive, in situations that ask for seriousness? Will we return to embrace us when the things are all right us and some strongest when for one of the two will go badly? Will we return to call us with absurd names that nobody knows of us out two? Will we return to use our two names in the same sentence while we will be telling to the others something that is happened recently? Will we return to look us and to smile even if will we shake other hands? Will we return to speak on the phone even if in the other room it waits us for somebody else? Because you see, for how much can seem absurd, it misses to see your lips smile as it will ever miss to kiss her. And if a day won't be this way, I will keep on pretending that I am him. Don't ruin everything how much, another time.Therefore while the wind is me hostile, you tell me: it is not true?