I don’t like days that need to be good days just because someone, somewhere said that they should be so. Birthdays, anniversaries, weddings…all the same for me.
But it doesn’t mean I can’t have fun either. I can. Just not of the overly-planned type.
So as you may guess, New Year’s eve, last night, was not my night. The feeling of not being able to be with all the people who matter to me. Of having to make a choice. This one or that one. I guess it’s like that every day of the year – just that on New Year’s eve, everything feels more. Because it is a special day; or so they say.
We are in a small village on the outskirts of Parma. The snow has just started to land. It gives me peace the snow in January, makes everything irrelevant. I just need to hold on a few more days and the melancholy will be gone. Always takes me a while to shake off the shackles of this mystery, the New Year’s sadness; which maybe has a name in a language I don’t know.
What should they do
- Enter a cemetery (0%)0
- Stop for some food in the small village (100%)100
- Head straight back to Milan (0%)0