~old times~

pictures of old times make you  feel sorry  for  the things that cannot be the same anymore. there are pictures  with color and smell, memories  and snapshots of good  times. when you were there, together with those you  loved  to  spend  your time with. when  you  wished  to  be here, but  you  couldn’t  predict moments like this.when your intuition and sense of  anticipation didn’t foresee  the lack of old times. it’s useless to  dig  a way  to these times, but it worths the effort. because you remember the good ones, you remember people and moments with  your friends.

one  day in a month you  deserve to reconstruct reality, according to the feelings you  have now. You  are  allowed to  dream at  old times and places and bring them with you with the help of your  mind. friends might be the same. but they  might be others, close or distant in the same time. you realize that you  love some of them, though you know you  could  never have access to  what they  feel  about you. Old times are made to  make you compare the novelty of your existence  and become melancholic about the things that could have  happened if your  decisions had  been different.

this is why  I love old times. and memories. because the condition for which  they  inherit the name “memory”is the fact  that they remain as they happend. to make you see what  you  didn’t  see, to make you  remember faces, friends and to  create  a sort of  melancholic  feeling which  you  are pleased with. I remember what  one friend  told  me about  good old shoes[thank you], and I feel that  I wear them whenever I recall old times. and people.  I guess they  fit perfectly.

I did it my way

And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, Ill say it clear,
Ill state my case, of which Im certain.

Ive lived a life thats full.
Ive traveled each and evry highway;
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Regrets, Ive had a few;
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course;
Each careful step along the byway,
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, Im sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall;
And did it my way.

Ive loved, Ive laughed and cried.
Ive had my fill; my share of losing.
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing.

To think I did all that;
And may I say – not in a shy way,
No, oh no not me,
I did it my way.

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows -
And did it my way!