Life is like a book that opens anyway, even if we struggle to turn its pages, because it flows, narrates, listens, shares, chooses, lives, whether we like it or not.Time that has existed but not lived is a wasted time, a time betrayed, a time lost, but never a motionless time, however captive it may be of the passive form that one wants to give … Continua a leggere The Book of My Life