the night is sad the trees move abruptly with the strong and cold wind, the cold enters through my window the sky is red, red a red almost reaching the color of the blood for monetos it rains and for there is so much light that it does not let see the stars the beautiful and bright stars but ... this will not affect me is three in the morning I think I will read or write messages I will not think about it or maybe sleep but no matter what the cold of the night reflects melancholy nothing more
