“Sundays are like confetti floating in the air in slow motion, in the evening they reach the ground, and you hope a bit of wind could blow on them so they could fly a bit longer.” ― Alain Bremond-Torrent, running is flying intermittently

I will dream
“I will cut adrift. I will sit on pavements and drink coffee. I will dream; I will take my mind out of its iron cage




